Time is An Illusion, Lunchtime Doubly So
by Font Bookfarthing
Summary: This book was written in 2008, right before it was announced that Eoin Colfer was writing "And Another Thing." At the time, I figured Arthur, Ford, Random, Marvin and both Trillians were dead. So I decided to write for the one remaining Earthling.
1. Prologue

Time is an Illusion, Lunchtime Doubly So

by

Font Bookfarthing

PROLOGUE

The story so far... In the beginning the universe was created. But how was it created? Of course the only answer available to that question has always been: the Big Bang. But what _exactly_ was the Big Bang? And what caused _it_? So far nobody had been able to provide a satisfactory answer to those questions. And so it remained a mystery. In fact the very first time- traveling expedition to journey back in order to observe the birth of the universe, instead found themselves at a rather nice restaurant called the Big Bang Burger Bar. The intrepid explorers were shown to a table where they were able to watch the beginning of all things in comfort and... in company. They got out their sensors and computers, and measured and recorded the birth of the universe. But they were still not entirely clear on how it had started. And on top of that, they suddenly found themselves confronted with another mystery: where exactly did this Big Bang Burger Bar come from?

Clearly, they reasoned, it came from time travelers like themselves, but who had come from a time _after_ this very first expedition to the origin of the universe. But how far into the explorers' own future? As the years went by, more and more people visited the Big Bang Burger Bar, but still nobody could say who had actually built it, or from what time period they had come.

Meanwhile Zaphod Beeblebrox and his colleague Zarniwoop conspired together to find out who it was who was secretly ruling the universe. Zarniwoop located the coordinates of the planet where the ruler lived in seclusion, and further discovered that it was protected by an Unprobability Field. Beeblebrox had the more complex task of the two. He removed the part of his memory relating to his motives and the conspiracy, became president of the galaxy, and then stole the Improbability Drive prototype ship the _Heart of Gold_, in order to get to the ruler of the universe.

After some detours, they eventually made it safely to the planet where the ruler lived, and found him to be a philosophical old man in a shack... along with his cat. But before they could fully interrogate him, Zaphod, who still only had half of his memory intact, left... stranding Zarniwoop on the planet.

During all this, a race of hyper-intelligent, pan-dimensional beings created the planet Earth, which was, in actuality, a gigantic super computer, in order to compute the question to the ultimate answer of life, the universe and everything. However, a consortium of high powered psychiatrists felt their livelihoods threatened by this. (They were however, unaware of the fact that the ultimate question and the ultimate answer were mutually exclusive and could not both be known in the same universe. Nor did they know that the Golgafrinchans had landed on Earth two million years before the programme was complete, causing the indigenous population to die out, thus ruining the experiment... supposedly.) And so they hired the Vogons to destroy the planet/computer Earth five minutes before the programme was complete.

However, thanks to the dolphins' "Campaign to Save the Humans," and the plural sector in which the Earth was located, the Earth kept returning along with everyone on it. Determined to get the job done, the Vogons ultimately bought out _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_, and with the help of the _Guide Mark 2_, manipulated the mysterious Grebulons into destroying the Earth along with the final three Earthlings still at large... or so they thought.

Eventually the Vogons sold the _Guide_ back to Megadodo Publications and went back to handling the bureaucratic matters of the galaxy, and occasionally even blowing up planets... leaving one final Earthling unaccounted for...


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Fenchurch woke up slowly. Her eyes didn't want to open for some time, but she eventually asserted her authority and forced them to open a small crack. At which point she was rather startled to discover that she was in her bed back home on Earth. Her eyes then popped open all the way! How long had she been there? She had been lost traveling among the stars, last she remembered. She couldn't have found the entire planet Earth, gone home and to bed... and then simply forgotten! She was sure she would have remembered!

Then she noticed the sleeping figure under the covers next to her. Who was that! Had she been drinking? She didn't feel hung-over, but that would explain the situation. She must've finally hitchhiked back home to Earth, been so pleased about it that she went to a pub, picked up a total stranger and brought him home with her. The sleeping figure stirred gently. She reached out a tentative hand and cautiously pulled the top of the blankets back to see who it was. "Arthur?"

Arthur opened his eyes. "Oh, hello. Did you sleep well?"

She blinked at him a few times to make sure he stayed there after each blink. He did stay. It was time to question him. "How did you get here?" she asked, smiling.

Arthur frowned, "I don't know. I suppose I must have fallen asleep here last night."

"But just a minute! Arthur, I need to know how we got! We're back home! On Earth! But I don't remember coming home! Do you?" She looked around again to make sure that she was indeed in her old bedroom back in London. Everything was where it should be. Everything was ordinary. She hadn't actually seen anything ordinary for several years now. And oddly enough she found the ordinariness of the room to be completely surreal. She only ever saw an ordinary bed in dreams of a home she thought she had left behind long ago. She only ever saw an ordinary chest of drawers in her dreams. She had become used to that. These things no longer existed in the real, physical world. And yet here they were!

"Now you come to mention it, I don't remember coming here either," said Arthur. "Tell me something," he said with a puzzled frown on his face.

"Yes?"

"Has that alligator always been there?"

"Which alligator?" Fenchurch said, looking around nervously, her eyes boggling.

"The one over there by the bedroom door. Next to the rhinoceros," he added helpfully.

Fenchurch looked to where Arthur was pointing, and saw that there were two people standing in the doorway to her bedroom, and that they were both wearing very obvious animal costumes. The sort one wears at a Halloween party. The rhino then reached over to the alligator and pulled off the mask... revealing it to be another rhino. Or rather, another rhino costume. The alligator then pulled off the rhino's mask, revealing it to be another alligator costume.

"That's odd," commented Arthur.

"You know something," said Fenchurch thoughtfully. "It's not so much the rhino and the alligator... it's the flying pigs that's really spoiling our home-coming."

Arthur noticed that there were indeed several pigs flying about in Fenchurch's bedroom... up near the clouds. And then he realized that it wasn't so much Fenchurch's bedroom, as it was a field of multi-coloured tie-dyed grass... and the pigs were flying maneuvers in the air above them as though they were fighter jets performing at an air show.

Vapour trails then shot out from the pigs' rear ends. And then the vapour trails merged together and acted like a giant zipper unzipping the sky. And as the sky unzipped, Arthur and Fenchurch found themselves falling up through the sky and into a gigantic toilet.

But fortunately they ended up on a small island in the middle of the bowl. And as they lay there panting for breath, Arthur noticed something very odd. "Fenchurch," he said. "You're turning into a dodo bird. Stop it."

Fenchurch didn't quite understand why Arthur had said this to her. And her ability to think clearly was slipping away, like a guilty dog extricating himself from a room with a smelly brown heap in the middle of the floor. "Me no dodo," she said in her defense. The accusation struck her as especially strange because clearly it was Arthur himself who was turning into a dodo. She pointed her wing at him and declared, "You the dodo."

Arthur wasn't quite sure what she was saying. But he was certain that she was wrong. And he too seemed to be losing his ability to construct a decent argument, so all he could say in response was, "Me no dodo." He then pointed to Fenchurch, who was most definitely a dodo, and he said, "You the dodo."

Fenchurch could only retort with, "Me no dodo. You the dodo."

Arthur thought about this for several seconds before finally responding with, "Me no dodo. You the dodo."

Fenchurch had trouble accepting this, and so shook her beak and pointed her wing at Arthur, "Me no dodo. You the dodo."

Arthur shook his own enormous beak, "Me no dodo. You the dodo."

"No. Me no dodo. You the dodo."

"Me no dodo. You the dodo."

"No. Me no dodo. You the dodo."

Amazingly, this argument went on for several minutes... until they both turned into chocolate pudding.

#

After the Infinite Improbability Drive prototype ship the _Heart of Gold_ successfully took former president Zaphod Beeblebrox around the galaxy during his fugitive years, the drive eventually went into mass production. These days most ships in the galaxy were powered by the Infinite Improbability Drive. The Imperial Galactic Government experimented briefly with other forms of travel, such as the Bistromathic Drive, the Bad Luck Drive, and the sickeningly complex Quantum Inversion Disintegration and Rematerialization Drive. But in the end, they realized that the Infinite Improbability Drive was the least reliable... but the one whose industry presidents provided the largest campaign donations. So the Infinite Improbability Drive was now the standard in galactic travel.

#

Things settled down in the drive room of the spaceship on which Fenchurch had stowed away. The flying pigs were gone, and unfortunately so was Arthur. In fact he had never been there at all. She hadn't actually seen him since shortly after visiting God's last message to His creation. They had been sitting in the passenger section of a space transport when the ship had made a perfectly ordinary jump through hyperspace. And then Arthur was gone! One moment he was sitting next to her, they were planning their future together in a big, wide, exciting galaxy, and the next moment, he was gone, and Fenchurch was alone in a big, wide, lonely galaxy. The ship's crew had explained patiently and sympathetically that the accident had happened because she and Arthur had originated in a plural zone. And there was simply nothing to be done.

She'd been looking for him ever since.

She was currently hiding out in the drive room of a ship carrying supplies to another space craft. The voice of the captain came over the speakers and announced that they had just finished their improbability jump, and were about to dock with another ship and transfer their cargo.

This was where Fenchurch got off. As the crew members entered the room and began the cargo transfer, she emerged from behind the crates, picked up one of the smaller containers, and helped carry it across to the other ship. Then once again she snuck down behind the crates and waited...

#

Several days earlier, Fenchurch had been on the planet Hargphardtle. Now resigned to being thoroughly lost in the galaxy, she started trying to make some sort of living for herself by crafting and selling musical instruments vaguely resembling the cello, which she used to play back on Earth. It was the fifth planet she had been to since finding herself separated from Arthur in the hyperspace accident. She had come across a collection of large wooden objects which the locals called "lawyers' case breakers." Though exactly what that meant, she didn't want to know. But she found that she could fairly easily convert these into musical instruments very much like an Earth cello.

She also found for herself a little corner of unused sidewalk. Actually it wasn't like the sidewalks on Earth. This one was 42 stories up (coincidence), and just to the side of where a clear walk-way tube from across the way came out into an outdoor balcony café. One reason she preferred this site was that although she felt ashamed every time she did it, she would keep an eye on the tables, and when people would leave a significant portion of food on their plates, she would wander by and quickly grab some of the good bits for herself before the robotic waiters could clear away the plates. For a few weeks she shared the corner space with another homeless life form. He was small and blue and covered in a kind of downy fur. He was loud and opinionated, he only owned one shirt (a thoroughly soiled "Disaster Area" T-shirt), and made a small amount of money for himself by providing passers-by with psychiatric interpretive ballet. But he soon left and she never met up with him again.

It startled her when one day a few weeks after he had left that she noticed a television screen (or at least it's intergalactic equivalent) in a shop window. And on the screen she saw that he now had his own television show where he did psychiatric interpretive ballet for couples who were in danger of breaking up, and also for people suffering from "fart bubble" addiction.

It was while selling her cello-like things next to the balcony café that she heard the news on a nearby radio of the historic launch of the _Starship _GSS _Suicidal Insanity_, which was about to go back in time to begin construction of the Big Bang Burger Bar. The radio announcer explained that the origin of the restaurant was some sort of galactic mystery, and the crew of this starship was hoping to solve it by simply becoming a part of it. There was a brief interview with the head of the project, Alaric Badgerbull. He explained that as far as anybody could tell, the restaurant had simply always been there, and nobody had ever come forward to claim to be the mind behind it. "And if nobody else is going to be responsible, then it might as well be me!" he said. He explained that he had personally visited the restaurant and made notes of all the materials used in its construction. He then commissioned the _GSS Suicidal Insanity_ and her crew to help him carry out the task. Their historic launch would take place in a few days.

As she sat in her corner between the pedestrian tube and the balcony café with her cello-like instruments on display around her and the aliens walking, flying, crawling, oozing, bouncing, or in some cases speelbonking (Speelbonking was a very complex form of perambulation that consisted in equal parts of walking, defecating, and astral projecting.) by her, Fenchurch pulled a clam out of her pocket. "Did you hear that, Sparky? That sounds interesting."

"It sure does, Boss," Sparky replied in a high-pitched voice that always reminded Fenchurch of Mickey Mouse. She had never been able to figure out why the clam should call her Boss though. But she quickly got used to it, and eventually she even came to like it. Which was at least fair, as the clam didn't know why the human should call him Sparky.

#

Sparky was from the planet Pontookie Epsilon. The clams there lived for thousands of years, and were not only sentient, they were actually among the most supremely intelligent life forms in the entire galaxy. Simply by sitting and thinking about things, these clams were able to deduce the existence of the rest of the universe to a very high degree of accuracy, without ever having to see it. Except for one blind spot. For some reason, the clams had never been able to deduce that there would be such a thing as war. The clams were also highly philosophical, and could frequently convince people that nothing truly existed, even if it was staring them in the face. Some could even take existing circumstances and project what would happen next to an accuracy of nearly 99%.

Unfortunately the clams of Pontookie Epsilon, like clams on most worlds, their physical bodies were merely slimy little blobs stuck between two shells. And thus they had no means of escape from the local fisher-folk, who would catch them and then sell them to tourists as a sort of (usually unwilling) "guru in the pocket."

#

"If you're still looking for that other Earthling," Sparky offered, "you might want to get yourself onboard that ship, Boss."

"Why?"

"Almost everybody goes to the Big Bang Burger Bar eventually."

Fenchurch had long ago learned to stop asking Sparky if he were sure about the things he told her. So she accepted what he said, and proceeded to hitchhike to a nearby planet where she found another ship which was going to rendezvous with the _Suicidal Insanity,_ and then promptly snuck onboard.

#

With the cargo transfer now complete, and Fenchurch safely hiding amongst that cargo in the hold of the _Suicidal Insanity_, she heard the captain make an announcement over the speakers, explaining that they had just picked up the last of the equipment, and would now begin traveling back in time. Fenchurch braced herself for this. She had never traveled backwards in time before. She had only ever traveled forward in time. And then at more or less the same rate as most other people and things.

Then she felt it. And oddly enough the sensation was rather like taking a hot shower, while her insides froze.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Fenchurch sat in the shadows of the _Suicidal Insanity's _storage hold. It was about the size of a couple of supermarkets surgically stuck together, after having been cleared of all the shelves and the food. The floor space was filled with crates and boxes ranging in size from large enough to hold a small automobile, to shoe box-sized. And overhead was a net draped down from the ceiling that held what looked like a hundred or so balls. They were cricket ball sized, and Fenchurch had no idea what they were for. She had been in the hold for several hours now with nothing to break the tedium. She did discover that she could become quite accustomed to time travel and what it did to her body temperature.

Eventually she heard footsteps walking by in the corridor outside. And then the footsteps went away again. Well, at least that broke the tedium. A couple more hours went by. She took off her jacket and bunched it up to use as a pillow... when more footsteps approached... and this time the storage hold's door opened.

A crew member came in. He rummaged around, reading labels on the boxes, sighing a lot as he failed to find whatever it was he was looking for. Then he spotted Fenchurch in the corner. "Hello? What are you doing there?" he asked, more confused than angry.

He looked a bit like a lemur, she thought. He was about five feet tall, with two large round eyes facing forwards, and large rectangular ears. The fingers, of which there were maybe ten on each of its two hands, were about seven to eight inches long and only about as big around as her own pinky. Clearly she wasn't a member of the same race, but that didn't seem to bother him.

"Oh, um..." Oddly, it was only at that point that she realized that she should have spent the last several hours coming up with a good excuse for what she was doing there. She made a quick mental note to use her time more wisely in future. Then she made an even quicker mental note to avoid making mental notes when she was in a situation like this where time was a very important factor.

"Are you doing the inventory?" the lemur-like man asked.

"Yes," she said, relieved that he had provided her with his own excuse.

"I guess nobody told you, then. Typical! Anyway Captain Forrestra changed his mind... _again!_ He doesn't need an inventory after all. Here, why don't you give me a hand carrying the toilet paper up to the flight deck lavatory."

She put her jacket back on, slung her satchel over her shoulder, and picked up the other end of the large box over which the lemur-man was stooping.

They carried it through the corridors and into a lift and then into the enormous flight deck. It was nearly two hundred feet across, with a balcony level, and then three separate lower levels with walk-ways and railing and nearly a hundred different work stations where several different kinds of aliens were seated at their work stations. Most of the crew were the lemur-like aliens. But on the lower level there were human-looking aliens, which Fenchurch had learned could mean they were from any one of a very large number of totally alien worlds.

She helped carry the box into the lavatory where the lemur-man thanked her. One of the stalls burst open, and a large alien with a bushy mouth and two large tusks emerged. He was bipedal, but Fenchurch couldn't help thinking how much his face made him look like a walrus. Although she didn't know it, this was Alaric Badgerbull, the project coordinator.

Alaric suffered from a very enthusiastic and extraverted personality. Unfortunately he was the sort of person who expected the same enthusiasm from everyone else around him. And if he didn't get it, then he felt it was his job to somehow "jolt" it out of them. For example when he noticed the lemur-man and Fenchurch standing in the lavatory, he immediately bellowed at them, "Do either of you know why in the hell it is that when you push and you push and you push, it's only a little tiny poop. But those big ones the size of an Algolian sausage seem to slide out by themselves?"

The lemur-man just shook his head.

Fenchurch started to answer as politely as she could, "Maybe the smaller ones..."

But the walrus-man cut her off as he noticed the box they had brought in, "Ah, new toilet paper! Excellent. Although why it wasn't in place _before_ now is a definite crime to every butthole on this ship!" And he left the lavatory without washing his hands.

When she emerged into the flight deck a moment later, there were lights flashing, and an alert sounding to let everyone know that some sort of minor crisis going on. Alaric Badgerbull leapt into action and ordered the nearest officer to rectify the situation. Unfortunately this was the science officer, Fark Bostleburger, another of the lemur-like aliens. "I'm afraid that's not my job."

"Well, do it anyway!"

"But I haven't been trained to work in the engine room. I'm the science officer. I have an idea though, why don't we get the engineering staff to fix the problem. Seeing as it _is_ their job. And they are already in the engine room, where the problem is. And they have been trained for this sort of thing."

Badgerbull turned expectantly to the captain and directed a gaze at him which said, _You're the captain here. Hadn't you better fix this!_ Captain Forrestra worried for a moment about how to give Badgerbull a, _Yes, I know that it's my responsibility. I was about to start giving orders to fix it anyway, if only you would let me do my job!_ expression. But then he figured that his features weren't actually capable of that much lucidity. He was however unaware of the Delron race who communicated exclusively with facial expressions. But this information would only have made him feel inadequate for not being able to do the same thing himself. So he simply offered a sympathetic bugging out of his already large lemur-like eyes, then turned back to his controls and contacted the engine room. "Engine room?" There was a pause. No response. "Engine room, this is the captain." Still no response bothered to fill up the pause left by the captain.

Finally Captain Forrestra turned to First Officer Flop, another lemur-alien, "Go down there and see what's wrong with them and then see if they can fix the problem, please."

"Okay."

"Thank you, my dear."

Flop hesitated for just an instant. He hated it when the captain called him "my dear." He always worried that the captain had actually been addressing a nearby _female_, and that perhaps he had misunderstood when he thought that the captain had been giving _him _an order. But then he would always remind himself an instant later that the captain addressed everyone as "my dear," and for him, it was obviously gender-neutral. So he continued on his way down to engineering.

Fenchurch, meanwhile, wandered around the flight deck, trying desperately to look like she belonged there. Fortunately she found an unused work station down on the lowest level. The lower level had mainly the human-looking aliens working there, and so the console fit her quite nicely.

Several minutes later, Officer Flop returned to the flight deck. He reported to the captain, "I'm afraid that nobody in the engine room is fit for duty at the moment."

The captain actually began quaking with fear. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. "What do you mean! Why not?"

"Well, there's a slight leak in the new coolant system. And I'm afraid they've all inhaled rather too much. And now they're all stoned."

The captain thought for a moment. "All right. I see. Okay, here's what we'll have to do. We'll have to get environment suits on and go down there and fix the problem."

The First Officer Flop whispered quietly to the captain so as not to embarrass him in front of the rest of the flight deck personnel, "Sir, we don't need to do that to fix the problem. We can simply release the anti-gremlins into engineering."

Impatient, the captain said, "Then do it, please!" A moment later he sighed and said, "I'm sorry for shouting, my dear. Good job." Then in response to a tiny twinge of panic, he worried that there may have been somebody else involved in fixing the problem whom he had forgotten to thank. And so he raised his voice to address everyone on the flight deck, "Good job, everyone." Eighty percent of them had done nothing, and of those, seventy percent didn't even know that there was a problem. So they all nodded and smiled.

Officer Flop sent a maintenance officer down to the engine room to release a small batch of anti-gremlins.

#

Anti-gremlins were the opposite of the often thought mythical gremlins. Gremlins were in fact real. They were small, green creatures who were very good at hiding, and had a loathing of all forms of complex vehicles. They would sneak aboard boats, aeroplanes, or spaceships, find the inner workings, and have at it! Anti-gremlins on the other hand, were small _red_ creatures who _loved_ complex vehicles. _They_ would sneak aboard boats, aeroplanes or spaceships in order to seek out any tiny problem they could find, and would then secretly make repairs. Interestingly, although they had each evolved on several planet around the galaxy, the two species never arose on the _same_ planet. Planets either suffered from one, benefitted from the other, or never experienced either.

However, once space travel eventually became common-place throughout the galaxy, spaceships infested by gremlins inevitably came into contact with spaceships infested with anti-gremlins. And when the gremlins and anti-gremlins came into physical contact with each other, there was always a colossal explosion.

In fact the explosions were so powerful that militaries of several different worlds very quickly began using them as bombs. They would drop a metal container which housed one gremlin and one anti-gremlin. And seconds before impact, a door between the two compartments would slide open, and the two innocent creatures were shoved together by a small compactor. Eventually gremlin-bomb warfare was banned. Not for any humane reasons, but rather because anti-gremlins were much more useful as a cheap means of repairing spaceships.

#

Fenchurch noticed the captain coming towards her. She had been caught! She glanced around quickly in what she hoped was a successful mixture of panic and stealth as she looked for an escape route.

"Suwee," the captain said as he approached. Fenchurch wondered why he would be calling for a pig here onboard a spaceship. Was it some kind of mascot? She then had to quickly remind herself that that word didn't necessarily have the same meaning everywhere in the galaxy. She then reminded herself that she had a Babel Fish in her ear and should have therefore understood the meaning of the word within this context. She then reminded herself that even though the Fish translated meaning, there would still be the occasional similarity of words... or names.

"Suwee, my dear," the captain said, stopping at the woman sitting next to Fenchurch, "I'm afraid that Marlie just called in sick. You're going to have to pull a double shift again."

Suwee was a human-looking alien female, appearing about fifty years old. "She called in sick! Now! Her shift started ten minutes ago! I've been waiting for her to get here so I can get down to the mess hall and have some dinner!" The captain shrugged in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner, but which Suwee, and Fenchurch for that matter, interpreted as inept and entirely unhelpful. Suwee went on, "Can I at least have a break to get something to eat?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear. I need you to triangulate the energy modulator."

The woman's voice raised several octaves, "Captain Forrestra, I haven't eaten in at least nine hours! At least let me take a quick break for a small bite to eat!"

"Can't do it. Not yet. You need to stay at your post."

She rolled her eyes like she was dealing with the most ludicrous situation in the entire universe, and clearly deserved some sort of prize for putting up with it. "Then at least let me have something to eat here at my post."

She may as well have just asked the captain to sacrifice his life at that point. "Oh, no! The last time I let anyone eat here on the flight deck, they spilled their drink into the navigation computer and we spent the next nine years stuck in the black hole of Galginia."

"That was only three weeks!" she shouted back, clearly certain that the captain was exaggerating unnecessarily.

"I was talking about _real _time! Not _subjective _time!" The captain walked off, inspecting around the lower level of the flight deck, mainly to avoid having to deal with Suwee anymore.

The woman took several moments to compose herself. Then she turned to Fenchurch, threw her hands uselessly up into the air and said, "Typical! Typical! I don't know why I bother!"

Fenchurch was about to shrug, but then suddenly remembered how pathetic it had looked coming from the captain. So she simply said, "I'm sorry."

Unfortunately this was like dangling bait over a pool of piranhas. Suwee exploded again, "_You're_ sorry! _You're_ sorry! How do you think _I_ feel! I'm the one who hasn't eaten in nine hours!"

At which point Fenchurch realized that she couldn't win, and just shrugged.

After several seconds of relative silence, it began to look like the tirade was over. So Fenchurch turned back to the controls in front of her. There were interfaces where she was meant to stick her upper appendages, in her case her hands. And it was while she was wondering exactly how safe it would be that the captain came up behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Um, I just finished the, um..."

"Well then you should monitor the zeesium flow. Come on."

She turned back to the interfaces, stuck her hands in, and a colourful holographic display appeared before her, making her jerk back slightly.

Satisfied that she was getting back to work, the captain walked away quickly before Suwee could pick up where they left off.

Several seconds went by before Fenchurch started to seriously worry that she might be doing some damage to the ship. At which point Suwee sighed loudly and then leaned over and whispered, "They never trained you how to do this, did they?"

"I... er... don't think..." Fenchurch dragged the words out as slowly as she could.

Suwee cut her off, "I didn't think so. They never train anybody anymore. I don't think anybody here knows exactly what they're doing. I know I don't!" she shouted.

And so Fenchurch got a brief, clandestine course on monitoring the zeesium flow. It was actually simpler than she would have thought. It was all computer controlled. The operator simply asked the computer to monitor the zeesium flow, and the computer then got on with it. When there was a problem, the computer reported it. At that point all the operator had to do was order the computer to correct the problem. And that was it.

At which point Fenchurch had to ask, "So why are my hands in here?"

"The old model computers were controlled that way. But they switched over to the voice-operated model ten years ago, and the regulations have never been updated. So now we have to keep our hands in the appendage interface even though it's entirely unnecessary."

Several minutes later Fenchurch finally got the hang of operating it, and then a warning light went off. "Computer, what's wrong?"

"Valve 1009/87/291 has opened too wide."

"Then fix it."

There was a pause. "Computer did you hear me?"

"Affirmative."

"Did you correct the problem?"

"Negative."

"Why not?"

"Grammatical error."

"What grammatical error?"

"You did not use the appropriate form of speech."

"What?"

Suwee leaned over again, "You have to say please."

"What?" Fenchurch asked again. "Really?"

Suwee's only response was to throw her hands up in the air at the general futility of all things.

Fenchurch paused for a moment to wonder if this woman had ever contemplated suicide. She even wondered if she ought to suggest it. Then she berated herself for becoming so cold from her travels through the galaxy. So she turned back to the computer, "Computer, please fix that valve thing."

The holographic display before her twirled a bit, the computer made a pleasant little chirp, and then said, "Corrected."

#

The managers of the Qurlspot Computer Corporation realized long ago that computers were in fact extremely sophisticated idiots. Computers didn't care if a spaceship broke down or if a nuclear reactor blew up. But they could still operate far more quickly and efficiently than any living being, and for far fewer pay cheques. So it became necessary in most cultures to have a combination of both computer and living entity operating together.

They also realized that the people of the planet Qurlspot had the opportunity to improve their race. So they programmed all their computers in such a way that they would only respond if the operator was polite. Otherwise they feared becoming arseholes. Unfortunately the politeness computers actually ended up having the opposite effect. What the Qurlspot Computer Corporation didn't realize was that when having manners forced upon them, most people reacted badly and ended up behaving even more rudely than they would have done in the first place.

#

Fenchurch was experimenting with the way the holographic display changed colours as she moved her hands... when suddenly the alarms went off throughout the flight deck. She yanked her arms out of the appendage interfaces. She must have done something wrong. The lemurs on the top level immediately began blaming each other. The main screen on the forward bulkhead displayed some alien characters she couldn't decipher. She was sure it was pointing her out to the flight deck officers. But in fact it had the equivalent words, "we are experiencing technical difficulties... please stand by." Fenchurch tried to will herself into invisibility. She hesitantly replaced her hands back in the appendage interface terminals and held perfectly still. She just stared at her holographic display and made her expression as rigid as she could. She was doing her job. That was the aura she was trying to project. She was doing her job, and she was doing it well.

A moment later she was relieved to hear the nearby crew members discover that the problem was in fact due to some kind of external influence. It quickly transpired that another time machine was coming up along side theirs, and was actually slowing theirs down so that it could catch up and dock with them.

"Security guards to the docking bay!" the captain ordered, slightly relieved that the problem required an easy solution from him. If anything bad happened at this point, he could always blame the incompetence of the security guards. Captain Forrestra believed that he never actually had to fix the problem. He just had to delegate correctly. So even if one day the ship went down in flames, he would at least die happily if he could blame someone else for not fixing it.

The atmosphere on the flight deck remained quietly tense as they waited to hear back from security... until a few moments later when a very old man with very long white hair and beard, and a gray robe walked onto the flight deck. "It's only me," he said to everyone, even though none of them actually knew who he was. The old man had discovered long ago that saying, "It's only me," in situations like this always put people at least a tiny bit at their ease. The reason for this was that whenever people hear those words, they automatically assume that nobody would say that unless they were no threat. And they also had a tiny paranoid voice in the back of their minds that said even if they didn't recognize the sort of person who said this, then they really _ought_ to, and that there really was therefore no problem after all.

Unfortunately, after a moment's reflection, the captain decided that he really didn't know this person, and so said, "Who... what... er... Guards, stop him!"

Two nearby security guards stopped standing around menacingly, and began to lumber menacingly towards the intruder. They strode over slowly, ready for a fight. Their biceps bulged like a teenaged boy's crotch. Their lips snarled like they were about to sneeze. They were called Blargons. They were a race of warriors. And they were always ready for a fight. Only the strongest of their race got to work as off-world security. For their first birthdays, Blargon children were left alone in the woods, miles from any habitation. If they made it back home within a week, their parents would keep them. Blargon schools consisted of five parts being beaten, one part education, and nine parts truancy. The Blargon court of law was merely an arena where the two litigants would fight to the death. Blargon bodies were so course, they were frequently mistaken for rocks by off-worlders.

They marched up to the old man and came face-to-kneecap with him.

The only drawback about employing Blargons as security was that their race was only about two feet high. They had applied for the job of spaceship security via hyperspace visual communications. Over the image screen they certainly gave the impression of being very menacing indeed, and so a ten year contract was immediately signed with the largest spaceship corporation serving the spaceways; Happy Vacuum Space Lines. It was only when the first Blargons showed up for duty that their new employers began to regret it.

The old man pulled out a small devise which looked to Fenchurch like a television remote control. He pointed it down at the two guards, who looked to be about as intimidating as a couple of chiuauas, and she saw them suddenly stop and then march menacingly in reverse like someone was watching a video tape on rewind. The old man smiled.

The command crew looked puzzled and nervous. The old man then explained, "Oh, I'm sorry. This is a, uh, remote control. I just hit the rewind button."

First Officer Flop was genuinely interested by this nifty little gadget, "That is awesome. What else can it do?"

The intruder held the remote control up for him to see... but safely out of reach, "It can fast forward, rewind, play, and pause. But the record button doesn't work any more, I'm afraid. I had some chocolate on my thumb the last time I had to record anything, and it got stuck in the inner workings."

Feeling slightly reassured and safe now that he had the flight deck crew's attention, he began to stroll across the upper walk-ways. "The reason I'm here," he raised his voice slightly so that everyone could hear him, "is that the origin of the Big Bang Burger Bar is shrouded in mystery. Nobody has ever known who constructed it. Until, that is, you people have simply decided that you may as well cash in on it. The trouble is that that is a paradox." He walked just above Fenchurch's station, paused as he frowned down at her in thought. Then he smiled and said, "Hello, Earth woman." Then he returned his attention to the captain and crew, "I'm afraid that I am here to stop you. My name is Slartibartfast. And I'm with the Campaign for Real Time."

Alaric Badgerbull protested, "But _somebody_ has to build the place!"

"Indeed they do. And somebody will." Slartibartfast waved a vague hand, "Or somebody already has done. Or already _will have done_. That's the biggest trouble with time travel, really. Grammar. But I'm afraid that you simply cannot go back in time to build it after you already have knowledge of its existence. It has to occur to you as an original idea. Otherwise it creates a temporal paradox."

Badgerbull shouted back the only retort he could think of, "So?"

"So it's my job to stop you."

"Are you responsible for the problem we had a little bit ago in engineering?"

"I'm afraid so. I do apologise, but I had to do that to catch you up. But now that I'm here, I won't be taking any more actions against you. Because I'm reasonably certain that you simply won't be able to do what you plan on doing. So I'm really here just to observe. But please... don't let me stop you from trying. Just go on about your business like I'm not even here."

Captain Forrestra looked helplessly at the Blargon guards who looked even more useless than usual.

Alaric Badgerbull didn't feel he had very any options left open to him at that point. So he went for one of his stand-by verbal attacks, "Let me just ask you one thing. How come when you push and strain on the toilet, it's always a little tiny poop. But the great big ones just slide out almost by themselves."

Slartibartfast said simply, "Oh, I don't know. At my age I'm lucky if anything comes out at all. At least when I want it to."

The old man then walked down the steps to the lowest level of the flight deck and stopped next to Fenchurch. He smiled at her and said, "Obviously we haven't met yet... for you. But for me, we have." He stuck out a hand, "My name is Slartibartfast."


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

There was a drunken man dancing on the tables. The rest of the bar's patrons found this to be quite annoying and somewhat distracting, and so they asked him if he wouldn't mind stopping it and perhaps even dying slowly and horribly. But the man was so drunk that he took these comments as an invitation to continue dancing. Which was unfortunate... not only for the bar's patrons, but also for him, as he was getting tired and had just started to think to himself that now might be a good time to sit down and catch his breath.

So he continued to gyrate his hips, and fling his legs out. He shot the bar's patrons with what he imagined to be cool finger-shooting gestures, and he nodded his two heads so vigorously that several of the bar's patrons thought, or perhaps even hoped, that they would fall off.

Eventually the bouncer tore himself away from where he was trying to chat up one of the strippers, and strolled up to the table upon which the drunk was currently wiggling his body. "Right!" the bouncer boomed. "You up there, come on down!"

"I can't hear you!" the drunk lied.

The bouncer, a seven foot tall mass of muscle from the planet Tarbottle, wanted to get back to the stripper as quickly as possible, because she had just confided in him that she had recently broken up with her boyfriend, and was therefore single again and was clearly in need of a sympathetic shoulder... or perhaps even another part of his anatomy, sympathetic or otherwise. So he shot out one of his enormous, muscular hands and grabbed the drunk's leg, bringing him down with a bang.

"Hey! Careful, man! Maybe you don't know who you're dealing with!"

"Nope," the big green alien bouncer said, grabbing the drunk by the heads and hauling him towards the exit. "And I don't care either." And he threw him out the door.

Zaphod landed in a puddle of evil-smelling liquid in the gutter. He sat up and brushed some of the more gooey parts of the liquid off his jacket. He looked all around until he managed to locate the entrance to the bar directly behind him. A plan formed itself in what was left of his mind, but some part of him that still understood the workings of reality prevented him from marching back in there and pointing out to the bouncer the error of his ways. Instead he just remained sitting in the gutter and then threw up all over himself.

"Where did my life go wrong, man? How can I go from president of the galaxy, to being thrown out of bars just for trying to have a good time!"

"Obviously they don't know you like I do, Mr President," said a voice. A couple of hands connected to the voice helped Zaphod to his shaky feet.

Zaphod groaned miserably and said to his android, "Hey, Hugo. What are you doing here?"

"I followed you. I had to be near you. You must have some kind of magnetic personality. And being a mere android, I just find myself pulled towards you," the android said enthusiastically. "I couldn't just sit back at our crappy little apartment..."

"Hey, that is _my _crappy little apartment, man. Okay?"

"I know. I know," Hugo enthused very agreeably. "So I couldn't just sit back in _your_ crappy little presidential apartment. I mean masturbation can only be entertaining for a couple of days at a stretch... so to speak. And meanwhile you were out here in the big wide world getting up to who knows what. And I had a sneaking suspicion that the locals might not treat you with the same sort of respect that I have for you. So I've come to help you home."

"What, like I'm some sort of lost and confused old man?"

"No, no, no," Hugo said quickly, anxious that nothing he say be misinterpreted as negative in any way. "More like you're some sort of great man in a lost and confused world gone mad! And it is! It's _mad!_"

Zaphod extricated himself from Hugo's grip and then fell over and landed in the foul-smelling puddle again. "Hey, can you skip the adulation and just pick me up and carry me home?"

"It would be my greatest honour and pleasure to do so, Mr President." And he meant it. "I shall lift you up and carry you as far as you like."

"Just back to the crappy little apartment should do just fine."

"I tell you what. Could I carry you in the opposite direction?" The android was so thrilled with this idea, that he actually turned and headed off in the wrong direction. "That way," he went on, "We'll still get there in the end. But I'll get to carry you for a much longer period of time."

"Hugo," Zaphod put on his reasonable voice.

Hugo knew it was his reasonable voice, and so answered with a rather more personal form of address, "Yes, Zaphod?"

"Take me _directly_ back to my crappy little apartment, or I shall remove the pleasure centre from your programming. Is that clear?"

The android stood still in the middle of the cold and empty night street. Then he said in his sly voice, "Are you just trying to get me home quicker so you can get me into bed?"

"Home and to bed, yeah. But bed for one."

#

When Zaphod finally collapsed onto his Squornshellous Zeta mattress, he noticed that the maid had been there. He noticed this because the room wasn't the total mess it had been when he had gone out. He could see the floor, for one thing. And he could also tell that she had been there because there were once agin mint-flavoured condoms on his pillow. "Now that is class," he slurred to himself. Unfortunately the mint-flavoured comdoms only served to remind him that he had nobody with whom to share them.

Hugo looked at Zaphod sympathetically, and said as helpfully as he could, "Mr President, could I give you a blow job?"

#

Hugo was a sex android which Zaphod had ordered through the mail. Unfortunately he had done so when he was drunk, and so had ticked off the wrong box. So when the package arrived several days later, he was rather unhappy to discover that they had sent him the male model android rather than the female model. But since the company were afraid of getting their androids back in a rather sticky condition, they had a 100% refusal policy on all attempted returns.

Robots in general were a very helpful invention made to do labour of some kind in the place of life forms. Robots were programmed to do all sort of things with which their owners simply couldn't be bothered, such as cleaning the house, repairing the hypersphere, or being a willing sex partner. But because there were so many models of robot available, the people of the galaxy experienced another problem: that of having to go over all the spec sheets and information pamphlets about which robot was best suited to which life style. In fact they spent far more time planning how to save time than they had originally spent just wasting it in the first place. However the manufacturers had recently begun developing a robot to do away with this problem. This new robot's sole function was to chose other robots for its owner.

Of course not all models of robots that were tried out were successful. The manufacturers experimented briefly with robot scientists, which lead to robotic robot manufacturers, which eventually put the original manufacturers out of a job. And these robotic manufacturers are currently working on a type of robot to replace the actual consumer; robots who purchase other robots... and then lay about all day being waited on by them. Robot animals were also tried out. Many different types of artificial animals appeared on the scene. But when the first line of these went out of production, many new robot-animal-rights-activists also sprang into being and condemned what they called the extinction of this line of robotic animal. And with staggeringly over-paid lawyers, they forced the robot manufacturers to reinstate the discontinued lines. And it was the fear of this ever happening again that forced them to stop introducing any more robot animals.

One of the original intentions of making robots in the form of animals was to try and improve on the original. One example was frogs. Instead of having a tongue which would shoot out and catch flies, the robot version of the frog was equipped with a miniature tractor beam. Unfortunately after several days of trapping small insects in their mouths, it was soon realized that the flies were getting stuck in the robot's inner mechanism, causing them to break down.

Another problem was the paranoid fear most people had of what they thought was an inevitable robot revolution. This problem was solved by giving all intelligent androids a holographic display of their thoughts on their foreheads. And their eyes were constructed in such a way that they were unable to see these displays in a mirror or on their fellow androids, and thus find out that their makers could basically read their minds.

After Zaphod had regained a small portion of his strength, he switched off Hugo the horny android, so as to avoid finding himself being abused in some way during the night. He went over to a small cage in the corner of his crappy little apartment. In it was an Arcturan Mega Parrot. The body chemistry of the Arcturan Mega Parrot actually altered the chemicals it took into its body. The result of this was that if you feed the bird tryptamine, nitrogen and various other perfectly legal chemicals, it would then change this to a very unique gas which it would then excrete from its rear end in what the intergalactic drug culture called "fart bubbles." If a person then caught a fart bubble in his mouth and inhaled it, the resulting trip was very dangerous, highly enjoyable, and utterly forgettable. Strangely, nobody ever remembered what happened during these experiences. But when they were lucky enough to wake up a day or so later, they were invariably left with an overwhelming impression of having just had the best time of their entire life.

#

Zaphod woke up the next morning. Or was it the next evening? Or was it a week later? There was no way to know. All he knew for certain was that he had just had a great time, and wanted to have another great time right away... as soon as he fully recovered from his current good time. Very slowly over the next hour, he realized that he was lying in some sort of puddle on the bathroom floor. This was at least consistent with the other good times he had been having recently.

"Hello, Zaphod."

It was a clear voice, so it obviously wasn't from his other head, each of his heads thought at the same time. Zaphod tried to look up, but he couldn't work out which direction that was. He had a vague recollection that when he was sober, the up direction was not at all elusive. So he decided just to wait until he was sober again one day, and hopefully this voice would still be lurking around nearby.

But then the owner of the voice took Zaphod by the shoulders and helped him up and then plunked him down on the toilet. Zaphod looked at the other man, and tried to focus on his face. Instead, he found it much easier simply to vomit on him.

The man cleaned himself up in the sink and toweled himself off. He then had to pick Zaphod up off the floor again. "Zaphod, can you hear me?"

"Unfortunately."

"Zaphod, look at me. Do you remember my face?"

Zaphod looked at the man in front of him. He did look vaguely familiar. "Aren't you the dude I puked on last week?"

"That was just a few moments ago. Zaphod, my name is Zarniwoop."

"Oh... you. Go away, man. I'm busy experiencing self-loathing. And I have to be by myself to do that."

Zarniwoop smiled. "Your life doesn't seem to be going all that well right now, does it?"

"Zark off."

Zarniwoop sat down on a chair. "Zaphod, when you became president, you erased a certain part of your memory. That part of your memory had to do with me. And it had to do with our plans. We were partners."

"I don't remember that."

"I know you don't. That's why I'm here; to restore your memory for you." He pulled out what looked like a water balloon. "It's all in here."

#

Water balloon memory transference was an idea with origins that came from the Glabuwellons of Grobnie Gebnie 13. The Glabuwellons had water running through their brains in the same way that other races had a chemical nervous system. In fact the Glabuwellon form of communication consisted of spitting into each other's faces. The saliva would soak through the epidermis and be absorbed by the bloodstream where it would then be taken directly to the brain.

A missionary scientist who had originally come to Grobnie Gebnie 13 in order to bring the wonders of modern technology to the Glabuwellons, quickly found a way of adapting this technique for the use of other species. He had originally been working on a form of translation device (this was of course long before the Babel Fish was discovered). And thanks to his technique, it was eventually realised that they could make water balloons filled with information and simply smash them into one another to gain a whole wealth of information with a single bang. This technique was quickly adapted by the education industry, the publishing industry, and also the espionage branches of most major governments.

#

Zarniwoop casually tossed from hand to hand the water balloon containing all of Zaphod's lost knowledge. In it were all the thoughts he had deliberately removed upon becoming president of the galaxy. "All the plans we had," Zarniwoop explained. "All the conspiracies we planned to unmask. All the wrongs we were going to right. All the secrets we were going to discover. And we got a good start. We found out who secretly rules the universe! That was us!"

"Now _that_ I do remember. I also remember not caring too much, man."

"And that was only the start. We have more on our agenda. And the amazing thing is you already started to dabble in it, even though I'm sure you had no conscious understanding of why you were doing it. It has to do with the ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything!"

Zaphod sighed, "Yeah, yeah. Forty-two. So what?"

"So even though you had erased your memory, you were still trying to get to the bottom of things, to find out the answers to all the big secrets. Why else do you think you went to Magrathea?"

"For the fame and the money," Zaphod said defensively.

"No! For the ultimate answer to life, the universe and everything! And now that we know the answer, all we need is the question. And I've finally located a lead on that. That's why I've come to get you now."

"Yeah, well, I don't think so, man. I don't even like you."

"But we were partners," Zarniwoop protested.

"_Were_... past tense. Now why don't you get out of here and let me wallow in my own self pity for another couple years or so. I feel a big mood coming on, and it's not a good one."

Zaphod decided to go and lock himself in the bathroom until Zarniwoop left. He rose to his feet and began looking for the bathroom, when he suddenly realised that he was already in it. "Zaphod," Zarniwoop said casually. Zaphod stopped and turned... and Zarniwoop hurled the water balloon square into Zaphod's left face.


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

The _GSS Suicidal Insanity _finished its journey through time. And suddenly Fenchurch felt her body temperature begin to regulate itself back to normal once again. She was amazed to find that she had forgotten how unusual time travel had originally felt. Everyone on the flight deck took a moment or two to reacquaint themselves with feeling normal again as well. And then they all went back to work.

"We're not quite there, sir," First Officer Flop reported.

Captain Forrestra was sure that somebody somewhere had screwed up. And his solution was to attempt to appear large and menacing so as to keep all his underlings in line. "Why the swut not!" And then he slammed his fist against the panel for good measure.

"The problem," Flop reported, "is we're as close to the Big Bang as we can manage. We simply cannot get any closer."

Science Officer Fark Bostleburger added, "And we have detected the restaurant on our scanners. It's already here." There was a general air of disappointment on the flight deck, seeing as they wanted to be the ones to build the restaurant and were therefore trying to arrive at a time _before_ the restaurant existed.

"Well, just take us back even further," ordered the captain, aware that Alaric Badgerbull was standing behind him, fuming.

The temporal drive revved up and squealed. The pilot pushed down on the drive pedal as hard as he could. Unfortunately that only served to rev the temporal engines without actually taking them backwards in time.

"What's the problem!" Alaric demanded.

"The problem," explained science officer Fark Bostleburger, "is that we're trying to travel backwards through time. But time, you understand, was created by the Big Bang along with space. It's what we call spacetime. We cannot travel back in time to a time before there was time because we need the time to travel through if we want to time travel."

"Say that one more time?" the captain asked.

The science officer ignored this question and continued with his scans. "It looks like," he went on, "we are in a small pocket of spacetime that is somehow structurally different from the spacetime with which we are all familiar."

"What do you mean?" asked the captain, who never understood technical matters, but always demanded an in-depth explanation to make it look as though he was on top of things. In fact he had perfected (to his own satisfaction) a look of deep understanding and concern which he contorted his face into whenever technical explanations found themselves being thrown in his direction.

Science officer Bostleburger pointed to a display monitor, "This is the background, um, fingerprint of our universe, our spacetime point of the Whole Sort of General Mishmash. As you can see, the pattern is quite distinctive," said the science officer, over-simplifying things since he was aware of his captain's failings on the technical side of things. "And here," he pointed to another display monitor next to the first, "is the pattern, the fingerprint, of the point of the Mishmash where we find ourselves now. As you can see, it's quite different."

The captain added his nod-of-understanding to his look-of-understanding. "I see." He tried to phrase his next question in such a way that didn't make him look like a complete idiot. "So... what does that mean?"

The science officer wasn't afraid of looking like he didn't know what he was talking about. He knew that the beginning of all true wisdom was, "I do not know." So he turned to the captain and simply said, "Hell, I dunno."

"Okay... so what does this have to do with going back in time?"

"As you know," officer Bostleburger said with exactly the right amount of patronization in his voice, "Space and time are in fact part of the same thing. You cannot understand time without understanding space. And since we are trying to go back in time, it would help if we understood something of this part of space. And this part of space seems to be different from our own."

The captain lost his patience with trying to understand things that were clearly beyond the understanding of living beings, even that of his bluffing science officer, "Just don't worry about that! I want you to take us back in time to before the restaurant existed!"

Alaric Badgerbull blustered his way into the conversation, "I'd advise you to do what your captain tells you. Because if you don't, I may consider having you executed!"

"I'm afraid you don't have the authority to have me executed."

Badgerbull wasn't going to let that get in the way of a satisfying idea, "I meant symbolically!"

But the science officer wasn't going to let this tyrant have any sort of satisfaction of any kind, "I'm afraid you don't even have the authority to have me symbolically executed."

Badgerbull and Forrestra both glared at Bostleburger. So he turned to the pilot, held out his hands in a gesture of resignation, "Hell, give it a try, man."

The pilot gunned the engine again. A small vibration began in the engines, and then spread throughout the ship. And soon the entire ship was shaking violently. The entire crew worried. Alaric Badgerbull however seemed to be excited by what was going on. "More power!" he shouted.

"It's already at maximum," the pilot shouted over the noise.

Fenchurch thought this was all very exciting; it was just like an episode of _Star Trek_.

And then the ship lurched and the shaking died down. Everything was quite again. "What happened!" Badgerbull demanded.

The pilot sighed. He tried the controls a few more times before announcing, "The engines have burnt out."

Again, it had been so obvious that this was what was going to happen that Fenchurch was certain she had even seen exactly this in _Star Trek_.

Badgerbull glared over at Slartibartfast as though it was something he had done. Slartibartfast merely shrugged back.

From her station on the lower level, Fenchurch watched the officers confer with the captain, who then explained to Alaric Badgerbull that they had to dock somewhere to fix the ship. And the only place available to them was of course the restaurant.

"But it's already there!" Badgerbull complained.

"I know! And that's a good thing, too," the captain said. "Because if it wasn't, then we'd have nowhere to stop and make repairs."


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

"No," the waitress said to Fenchurch. "I'm sorry, we don't have any reservations for an Arthur Dent here, honey." Fenchurch inhaled deeply, and then let out a very long sigh. It was a sigh that practically deflated her entire body. She had spent days trying to get here, stowing away on different ships, sneaking around, worried she'd be caught at any moment... and now, to find out that it had all been for nothing!

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" asked the head waitress.

Fenchurch pulled the clam out of her pocket, "Sparky, he's not here. What should we do now?"

"You could try eating," the clam replied.

"What?"

"You're in a restaurant, Boss. Eat."

She lowered her voice to address her guru/clam, "I'm not sure if we have that kind of money."

But Slartibartfast was standing nearby. He held up a friendly hand and said, "It's all right, Earth woman. I can afford a simple restaurant bill for two."

Fenchurch turned back to the waitress, "Right. Er, table for two, please."

"Sure," the waitress said happily, grabbing a couple of menus. "This way, please." She lead them into the main part of the restaurant. They followed in the wake of her perfume which was almost a visible cloud surrounding the waitress.

They arrived at their table. The waitress eyed Slartibartfast as he sat down. She looked at his long white beard the way most females would look at a reproductive organ, "Say, are you two together?"

"Only in the sense that all temporal paradoxes have no true beginning and not true ending. And therefore can there truly be a middle? A now? To be together, we would have to first _be._ And for us to be, there would have to be a present... a middle. And as we are both the beginning and the end of the same temporal paradox, awaiting the arrival of the other end and the other beginning, well, you may begin to see our problem." He held out his hands in resignation of the problem.

The waitress said, "Oh," very slowly, in the way that less intelligent people do when they suddenly realise that they're in the presence of somebody who, by contrast, would make them appear quite stupid... unless they made a hasty retreat. "Well, let me know when you're ready to order." And she made a hasty retreat.

Fenchurch couldn't stop herself from gawping at everything around her. The restaurant was big... huge... enormous. It was set up to accommodate what looked to be billions of diners at a time. Every race seemed to be there. Belcerebons, Dentrassis, Vogons, Jatravartids, and others she'd never heard of, or could never have imagined. She even spotted some celebrities. Nearby was the famous Oolon Colluphid, and also Grunthos the Flatulent. Also nearby, surrounded by a collection of his groupies was Seemuss Tong, the sampronious wanker. And then she spotted Roodfarthing of Gwallalong, the founder of six dimensional Feng shui.

She even noticed Wowbagger, the Infinitely Prolonged in the crowd, the immortal being who had undertaken the task of insulting everyone in the universe. She had met him recently. He had awaken her as she slept fitfully in spite of the night sounds in her little corner of the balcony café. At first he had simply asked her her name. She woke up instantly. She suddenly got excited! This person knew her! He even had a clipboard! That must mean he was an official of some kind! That must mean he was from some charity organization that helped feeble life forms across the galaxy to get their lives back together! But when she confirmed that Fenchurch was in fact her name, all that he actually said to her was, "You're a painful and bleeding hemorrhoid on the butt of life. Now go back to sleep." And he left.

She glared at him now from across the restaurant. And suddenly she was feeling unhappy again. She felt utterly beaten. She had tried not to get her hopes up. But of course how could she not?

Slartibartfast felt sorry for the poor Earth woman sitting in front of him. He talked to her briefly about how he had also known Dentarthurdent, which was quite improbable, but not impossible. She asked him a lot of questions to try to glean from him anything she might have missed when she had known him. Any new piece of knowledge that she could keep with her in that special place in her heart labeled "Arthur Dent." So he told her about Magrathea, about the mice, about Krikkit. And she listened to all of it with a wistful smile on her face.

"I know what will cheer you up," Slartibartfast said when they had finished discussing Arthur. "It seems that there was this bar. And in walked a Zylbanian Tree Sloth."

Fenchurch waited for the rest of the story. But Slartibartfast just sat there looking at her.

Finally he gave up and began looking idly around the rest of the restaurant.

So she eventually had to ask, "Then what happened?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What happened when this Zylbanian Tree Sloth walked into the bar?"

"Well, nothing. Zylbanian Tree Sloths don't walk. And if they did, they wouldn't have any business in a bar. They are, er, teetotalers, I believe is the word." Fenchurch stared at him with a puzzled frown. So he bowed his head apologetically, "It's a sort of joke, you see. I'm sorry, Earth woman. But apparently I'm not terribly good at telling jokes. But as I recall, the humour does in fact lie in the fact that Zylbanian Tree Sloths don't..."

Fenchuch finished for him, "Don't walk." She smiled politely.

Slartibartfast went on, "And even if they did walk, they wouldn't have any business in a bar," he repeated, smiling quietly to himself.

He was a nice old man, so she tried not to hurt his feelings. "Yes, well, I can see how that would be very amusing."

Then the host arrived on the stage. He bounded out into the middle of the restaurant with the flourish and energy of a professional extrovert. He was a natural performer. He was familiar to most people across the whole of the universe, for he was the host of both the Big Bang Burger Bar, the Restaurant at the Beginning of the Universe, and also of the equally famous catering venture: Milliways, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! (What he actually said was, "Good evening, Qualzooliwaliwankah," which was from the Narglefargle language. Translated literally it meant, "unisexuals of any and all species, males of any and all species, females of any and all species, tri-sexuals of any and all species, quadro-sexuals of any and all species," and so on up to hyper-omni-quantum-milisexuals [The video pornography of which was usually prohibitively expensive, because by necessity, it always required a "cast of millions."]. But through the help of the Babel Fish, Fenchurch heard it as simply, "ladies and gentlemen.") My name is Max Quardlepleen and I will by your host for tonight's explosive show; the birth of History itself!" Everyone applauded at that point. They dinners goggled at each other, clearly impressed with what was about to happen before their eyes, or whatever other sensory organs they used. "So, ladies and gentlemen, we approach the moment. Anticipation is in the air. As we hold our collective breath, the force-shielded dome above us fades into transparency revealing... nothing. Void. Emptiness. Oblivion. Absolutely nothing at all. No time. And not even space. For this is where it all begins. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the start of everything. The original cause.

"If you've ever wondered where to place blame... place it here. Because we've all heard how so-and-so is upset because of this. And this happened because of that. And that happened because... and so on and so on back and back until... until here. So if you want to blame anyone for anything, look out there, for this is where it all begins. Except of course there doesn't seem to be anyone to blame... yet." They applauded again.

And being the master of the crowd that he imagined himself to be, he took the audience into a suddenly serious mood. "And , you know, blaming each other isn't going to get us anywhere. I really think that it might be the time to make that fresh start we all keep putting off. Think of it; a new beginning. I'm sure many of you would love to start all over again. And this would seem to be the perfect opportunity. Because wouldn't it be just _cosmic_ to start off a new part of our lives..." he paused, dramatically... "with a bang!" he said with a sudden shout and a grin. And the audience applauded dutifully. He was the man. And the audience were putty in his hands. It was only a pity that he himself wasn't going to take this opportunity to make a fresh start on his ego problem.

Max seemed to take a break in his routine and the relaxing background music started up again. Fenchurch turned back to her menu. It was printed on slightly psychic paper, and was therefore legible to anyone from any culture, provided they actually had a written form of language. There were other menus available for those whose dominant form of communication was smell; for example like the Loogle people from the planet Looglog Eleven. There was also a touch menu for races such as the Virgle-Poppers. There was the very popular taste version of the menu for species whose primary sense was taste, or indeed for anybody who wanted a quick sample of the foods they were ordering. There was also an audio version of the menu, and even the sexual intercourse version for the people of Eroticon 6. (For which a private booth was required for privacy of checking the menu. Not that the people of Eroticon 6 were embarrassed by this. For them it was perfectly normal. It was only for the consideration of other more prudish life forms who were embarrassed being near others who were performing sex acts on a restaurant menu.)

And then Fenchurch found something that caught her eye: the Algolian Zylbatburger. In fact she had only ever heard of the Algolian Zylbatburger before, and how tastebud-shatteringly delicious it was. In fact the rumours had been so wild, about how the burger actually stimulated a person's endorphins so that the experience verges on the metaphysical, that she was almost under the impression that people had simply been making it up. But here it was on the menu.

So when the waitress arrived a few moments later, and Fenchurch said as casually as she could, "I think I'll try that Algolian Zylbatburger," both the waitress and Slartibartfast stared at her. "Unless you don't recommend it," she added hesitantly.

The waitress wrote it down on her pad with a resigned twist of the head, "Whatever you want, honey. You just didn't strike me as the type." The waitress turned to Slartibartfast and took his order.

When the waitress had gone a moment later, Fenchurch leaned closer to Slartibartfast, "Should I have ordered that? You both seemed to react so strongly."

"Oh, no, that's fine. In fact if I were younger I might be joining you." And he turned to glance idly around the restaurant.

Fenchurch glanced up at the blank sky above them. It was totally black. Apparently the universe hadn't started yet. She turned back to Slartibartfast and asked, "So how do you come by a name like Slartibartfast anyway?"

"Oh, it's not so bad really... once you get used to it. In fact my parents were originally going to call me Phartiphukborls." And suddenly, for the first time in her life, Fenchurch didn't feel so bad about her own name.

And then another Fenchurch and Slartibartfast came up to them. The other Slartibartfast was dressed in the same long white robes, but the other Fenchurch was wearing only a large towel wrapped around her chest and tucked under her arms as though she had just gotten out of the bath.

The Slartibartfast sitting at the table seemed too casual about this. He looked up casually at his earlier self and said, "Can I help you?"

"I'm afraid we've got to swap Fenchurches. I've only just met this one," the standing Slartibartfast said, pointing to the Fenchurch wrapped in the towel. "And since you're my future self, you are clearly already acquainted with the young lady." He then turned to the seated and fully clothed Fenchurch, "And you, I take it, have only just met the other me?"

"Well... yes."

"Splendid. So you can come with me, and your other self here can stay here with the _other _me."

The seated and clothed Fenchurch looked to the standing and towel-clad Fenchurch, "You're from my future?"

"Yes."

"Will it be all right?"

"Yes, of course. In fact it's urgent that you go right now."

"Well, it's not really urgent," the standing Slartibartfast said.

"Yes, it is," said the towel-clad Fenchurch. She then turned to her seated other self, "Trust me. Off you go."

The seated Fenchurch held up her hands and let them slap down onto her thighs in resignation, "All right." She kept telling herself lately that it didn't matter if things in her life actually made sense anymore. And things hadn't make any sort of sense ever since she had left Earth. She had long ago decided that the best way to react to anything is simply to go with the flow, no matter how confusing. Things were still slightly annoying from time to time, but she simply tried to accept it anyway. She considered herself a sort of space-Taoist. Or should that be a space-confusionist? She got up, and let her other self sit down in the chair she had just vacated.

"Come on, then," the standing Slartibartfast said. And she followed him.

"Why is it so urgent I go with you?" she asked him as they walked past the other tables.

"Actually, I've no idea why your other self said that," he had to admit. As they continued to walk through the restaurant, Slartibartfast began speaking, "So anyway, I suppose one of my biggest inspirations was the story of the very first time traveler. She was a woman called Chief Temporalogist Zarlafah. She built the very first time machine. And in order to test it, she went forwards in time one hundred years. It transpired that this was to a period in time when time travel was more or less commonplace. But unfortunately it was also highly regulated at that point. Of course everyone knew that she was coming, she was the founder of time travel after all. So when she arrived, there was a huge welcoming committee. People had welcome signs. They wore those t-shirt things with her likeness on them. And unfortunately the time police were waiting there too. And so after making a speech and signing some autographs, she was quietly taken away and arrested for unlicensed operation of a time machine."

Slartibartfast held up a single finger, "Now... here's the problem. Since she was now arrested that therefore was unable to make it back to her own time, her research staff didn't know if they had got their sums right or not. So they abandoned their work and started again from scratch, thus putting time travel back a further fifty years, and therefore there wasn't a time police by the time Zarlafah arrived in the future. And so she was never arrested. And since she was never arrested, she did successfully go back to her own time and put things back on track. And since things were back on track, the time police did exist and were waiting for her after all. And so she was arrested. And so on."

Fenchurch continued to walk beside the old man in silence as they left the restaurant and went out into the spaceship carpark. She was quietly assuming that she was simply missing some obvious point. It was usually a safe assumption, she found. But she winced as she tried to work out what he had just said and why. And not one bit of it clicked into place in her brain as being actually relevant. So finally she had to ask, "What?"

"The answer to your question," he said simply.

"But I never asked you a question. Certainly never one where _that_ could be the answer."

"Oh, really? Didn't you ask me about my inspirations?"

"No. But it was an interesting story."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Well, perhaps you will ask me some day."


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Slartibartfast and Fenchurch sat in the small control cabin of his time ship the _Time Flies. _From the outside it looked very impressive. It was the size of a five story building. And there was a nice long ramp leading up to a set of double doors half way up the side of the craft. However, once inside, Fenchurch found herself following Slartibartfast down a short narrow corridor which lead directly into the control cabin.

This was the heart of the ship. And, apparently, the only actual cabin. It looked to Fenchurch to be about the size of a Fotomat booth. There was one seat, which was a combination captain's/pilot's seat and toilet. At the front were the controls. Above the controls were cupboards with supplies. And behind the seat was just enough floor space to curl up and go to sleep. Apparently the rest of the ship housed the mighty engines needed to travel backwards and forwards through time.

She was reluctant to complain. But six hours into the flight, with her sitting on the floor behind Slartibartfast, she said hesitantly, "There's not very much room back here." She tried to say it matter-of-factly, so as not to offend her host.

"No," the old man agreed. "Still, you should have seen the last ship with which I was lumbered."

"What was wrong with that one?" Fenchurch asked, eager for a reason to be grateful for her current accommodations.

But all the old man said was, "Oh, just don't ask."

#

Some hours later the two weary time travelers stepped gratefully out onto the surface of the planet Golgafrincham. And for all Fenchurch could see, it might have been Earth. The gravity felt right. The plants were green and leafy. The sky was blue. And there seemed to be a total lack of monsters trying to eat her the moment her feet touched the soil. She definitely like it.

As they walked through the trees and grass, all she could think was how much like Earth this planet looked and felt. Although she didn't know this, this was because Golgafrincham and Earth had virtually identical environmental conditions. And the reasons for _this_ will soon be made clear...

Slartibartfast led her to a cave in the side of a small hill. "We'll find the archeological expedition in there."

"What archeological expedition? I thought you were a time traveler?"

"Oh, my dear young lady. I've been many things over the years. You may not know this, but I used to design coastlines. I even worked on your planet Earth. Norway. That was one of mine." He was about to go on about the lovely crinkly edges, but stopped himself, because whenever he did reminisce about his masterpiece, everyone else around him tended to sigh, roll their eyes, or sometimes just get up and walk out of the room. So he stuck to the subject at hand, "But right now I am _assisting_ an archeological expedition on this planet. Have you ever thought about the connection between time travel and archeology?"

"That was my question. Why dig things up and make educated guesses about them when you can go back in time and see them in their prime?"

Slartibartfast sighed heavily. Young people! He rolled his eyes. "_That_ is precisely the sort of thing that Camtim was set up to prevent in the first place. We must only engage in _responsible_ time travel. Now if you're quite finished with your foolish ideas..."

Fenchurch held her hands defensively, "All right. All right."

She followed the old man into the cave in the side of the hill. He switched on a small torch that lit up the entire cave. About fifty feet in he stopped at a large roundish pit in the cave floor. It was pure black. "How far down does that go?" she asked.

"Forty-two miles." She eyed at him suspiciously. "No, really, it does. Come on." And he stepped out over the pit... and floated slowly down. He floated down so slowly he had time to turn and notice that Fenchurch was not following him. So he quickly added, "It's quite safe, as you can see. They've installed a minimal gravity field."

She edged forwards nervously. She could still clearly see the old man and his torch floating down deeper and deeper into the black pit. She looked around and found a small rock. She held it over the top and was about to let it go to see if it too floated slowly down, when she realized that if it didn't, then Slartibartfast would get quite a nasty bang on the head. So she tossed the rock off to the side, held her breath, brought one foot forwards, and very slowly took her weight off her other foot.

It was only at moments like this that she was reminded of the fact that her feet never actually touched the ground anyway. She was a natural born flyer. She could never figure out why that was. But it was something which she and Arthur used to do in the skies above Islington regularly... her own personal Halcyon days.

Still hovering at the top of the black pit, Fenchurch rotated slowly so that she faced down, and then just let herself drift down after Slartibartfast. She could still easily make out the light below her, and so floated down at an even pace with that.

#

It took nearly half an hour, but eventually they came out into a tunnel. The tunnel sloped gently down for fifty metres or so until it opened up into an enormous cavern.

It was the size of a cathedral for giants. It was well-lit by artificial lights hovering about the caves, and it was covered in stalagmites and stalactites. Slartibartfast pointed out the different coloured layers of rock on the walls of the cavern. "You see these different patterns? That's the giveaway."

She really felt she ought to be interested in things like geology, but she had no idea what the old man was talking about. "The giveaway for what?" she asked.

"For it's artificial origin. This particular pattern in the rocks has been here since the planet was built. It's as distinctive as fingerprint patterns which are only ever found on the more primitive life forms."

Fenchurch took a moment to fume in the privacy of her own head about that remark. And when a moment later she decided that it wasn't all that bad, and that Slaribartfast was a nice old man and hadn't meant to insult her, she finally realised what it was he had said about the rocks. "Wait. Don't you mean when this planet was _formed_?"

"No. I mean when this planet was _built_. As I told you, I used to design planets. This was clearly one of ours. That's one of the reasons they asked for my help."

"Who?"

It was only slightly improbable that the answer to her question stepped around the corner at that precise moment. "Them," Slartibartfast said. "I'll introduce you. This is Zarniwoop and this is Zaphod Beeblebrox."

Fenchurch shook Zarniwoop's hand politely. Then she hesitated as she looked into the eyes, and then the other eyes of Zaphod. "Zaphod Beeblebrox," she said. "_The_ Zaphod Beeblebrox?"

Zaphod got this reaction all the time. Or at least, he believed he got this reaction all the time. He held out his three arms for Fenchurch to behold him in all his glory.

She went on, "You're the one Arthur told me about."

"Arthur? The monkey man? Hey, how is he?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me."

"No idea, baby. I haven't seen him since the planet Krikkit like two years ago."

"Er, that was ten years ago, I'm afraid," Slartibartfast corrected him.

"Ten years? Wow. I must've been having an even better time than I thought."

Fenchurch tried to hide her disappointment. Yet another person who knew Arthur, but couldn't help her find him.

Even Zaphod could see the disappointment on her face. "Hey, I'm sure he's all right," he told her. Then he tried to think of a reason why the primitive, tea-fixated Earthling would possibly be all right. He tried to think of a single reason why Arthur could take care of himself in a galaxy as big and hostile as this one. Some example of his bravery he had witnessed that would give Fenchurch a reason to believe in his safety. Something. Anything. Even a day when he wasn't completely pathetic. A passing comment that could be misconstrued as being even mildly brave. But absolutely nothing came to mind.

So he changed the subject, "Hey, thank Zarquon you're here though. We've been waiting for you. How about we give you a tour of the dig, you dig?"

She nodded. Why not? What else did she have to do with her time?

They escourted her through the enormous cavern and adjacent caves. There were five main caves in all. Each one had artificial lights floating around in them. They introduced her to a couple of junior members of the team who were simply university students doing clean-up work for college credit, and there was also a small collection of menial robots used for digging.

They sat down at a table set up with samples of rock they were examining. "So what is this dig all about?" Fenchurch asked.

Zarniwoop explained, "We've been able to determine that this planet's original population died out about two million years ago. It has since been colonized by other beings. So we had to ask their permission to dig here."

"And why was I brought here?"

Zarniwoop slipped easily into lecture mode, "Earth people," he looked directly at Fenchurch and nodded, "your ancestors, are directly descended from Golgafrinchans; the people who evolved here on this planet. Slartibartfast," he gestured to the old man sitting at the table with them, "was able to confirm for us what we had originally suspected, that Golgafrincham was built by the Magratheans. It was designed by the computer Deep Thought. And it was done simultaneously with the creation of your own planet Earth.

"For eight million years both planets continued on, running their apparently independent organic programmes. But then suddenly life on Golgafrincham died out, and at nearly the same time the dominant life form on Earth went through a sudden dramatic shift. It turns out that the much more advanced people of Golgafrincham sent a space ship of refugees to the planet Earth, which caused the indigenous population to die out. At first we had assumed that their presence on your world had ruined the experiment. You know about the experiment, do you?"

She had heard Arthur go on about it often enough, "Something to do with finding the question to the final answer to life, and everything."

Zarniwoop nodded, "Exactly. The answer we know to be forty-two. The Earth was in fact a computer designed to find the question to that answer. And it now appears that the Golgafrinchans were a part of the plan all along. They were _meant _to colonize your world.

"And seeing as you were there moments before the programme was complete, the question must be buried in your subconscious."

Zarniwoop turned to face Fenchurch like some lawyer reaching the crescendo of a lengthy and damning accusation, "Therefore the question that is buried in your subconscious is in fact the _right_ question after all! The _ultimate_ question of life, the universe and everything!"

But before anyone could applaud his summing up, or indeed yawn derisively, Zaphod said, "Hey, you know, I'm not too sure about that. Back when I was captaining the _Heart of Gold,_ we found this dude Prak. And he told us that you can't know the question and the answer in the same universe."

"That's just a theory," Zarniwoop tried to assure him.

"But Prak had been given an overdose of this truth drug stuff. He only knew it because it was the truth."

Zarniwoop said in a tired voice, the one he used frequently when dealing with Zaphod, "Did Prak say this was definitely the truth? Or just that it was a possibility?"

"Uh, he didn't seem too sure. He was really out of it, you know?"

"Thank you."

Fenchurch asked, "I have a question. If both planets were built at the same time, how come the Golgafrinchans were building space ships two million years ago, and my ancestors were still living in caves?"

Zaphod said condescendingly, "Well, you know, some people are just slower than others. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Zarniwoop ignored him and explained, "This planet is equipped with psychic wave interferon emitters which can direct the forces of evolution up on the planet surface. And these wave emitters only work on certain life forms. Life forms that have already been designed by the same computer programme."

"But how can a psychic wave thing direct the forces of evolution? I thought evolution was determined by adaptation to specific environments?"

"That's true. But the interferon emitters influence life forms to _want _to live in different environments that will gently shape their evolution. For example if the plan was to have a race covered with fur, they will simply want to go and live in the colder climates. Then those who adapt well to the cold, will want to spend more of their time... you know... procreating.

"And that's the main reason we asked Slartibartfast to bring you here."

Fenchurch's eyes popped out, "What? Procreating?"

"No! We'd like to test the psychic wave interferon emitters on you to see if they work."

"What? No, thank you."

"It's quite all right," Zarniwoop assured her. "It won't hurt at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course."

"Will it have any lasting effects?"

"There's absolutely no reason why it should."

"That wasn't a definite no. In fact it sounds a little like our governments we used to have back home. They'd test things on civilians and assure them it was perfectly safe, when really they were just anxious to see what it would do to them."

"That was on Earth?"

"Yes."

"I can't really say I'm surprised."

She sighed. She didn't seem to have much choice at this stage. But then this was all pretty exciting. They were dealing with the origins of her world on a scale that had simply never occurred to her. And they seemed rather more intelligent than malicious. Well... at least Zarniwoop and Slartibartfast seemed intelligent. She looked over at the kind old man... who shrugged. "What do I have to do?" she asked.

They brought her over to some oddly shaped boulders. Zarniwoop and Slartibartfast worked the control panel which was disguised as a small group of stalagmites. Zaphod stood safely behind them and looked interested. They pulled the stalagmite levers and the nearby boulders hummed with energy.

Fenchurch suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. She lay down on the cave floor, with just enough strength left to say, "Let me know when you're finished, please. I'm just going to take a quick nap."

"Sleep?" asked Zarniwoop. "Are you tired?"

She nodded, yawned, and shut her eyes.

They switched the machine off. And suddenly Fenchurch opened her eyes again. "How are you feeling now?" they asked.

"Fine, thanks. Did I sleep long?"

"No. And you weren't actually that tired. We simply put that thought in your head."

Fenchurch got to her feet. She felt slightly embarrassed. "Well," she said, "I'd say that it works."

"Yes, it does. In the meantime we still need to confirm what the ultimate question in your brain wave patterns actually is." Zarniwoop turned to holler into a nearby side cave, "Hugo!"

Fenchurch saw a man walk over from the adjacent cave. He had long black hair, wore black leather trousers and open jacket, which exposed his chest and stomach, and had what looked like some kind of tattoo on his forehead. But as he got closer, she saw that it was in fact a small moving hologram of some kind.

"This is Hugo. He's an android. He'll be scanning your brain waves."

"You have an android whose sole function is to scan me?"

Zarniwoop shot an embarrassed look over at Zaphod. "Not really. Originally Hugo had... well... another function. But we're having to make due with what's available." He turned to the android, "Hugo, would you be so good as to scan this young lady's brain waves and find the ultimate question to life the universe and everything for us, please?"

Hugo rubbed his palms together and grinned, "Oh, you bet I will."

Hugo and Fenchurch sat down across from each other at the table. The android looked deeply into her eyes for several seconds... before finally saying, "The ultimate question? Okay. Well... I can see something about... something very important... called... the clitoris."

"Hugo!"

"Sorry. But it is important to her."

"We didn't say important," Zaphod chastised his android. "We said _ultimate!_ Okay?"

"I'm sorry. Let me try again..." He resumed staring. Fenchurch began to feel uncomfortable. Was this android reading her mind? What else would he come up with? Finally Hugo spoke again, "Um... here it is... What do you get... if you multiply... six by nine?"

There was a definite relaxation round the cave. There were smiles. Hugo held out his hands in a gesture of extreme full-of-himself-ness. Zarniwoop began shaking everyone's hands. He then stood in the middle of the group and announced, "I think that confirms all we've discovered, gentlemen, and lady. Earth and Golgafrincham were both computers working separately but in conjunction with one another on the ultimate question to life the universe and everything. And Fenchurch here," he put a gentle hand on her shoulder, "is the final product of that experiment. And now we are the first to know with certainty that the ultimate question to life, the universe and everything is; What do you get if you multiply six by nine? And the answer to that is forty-two."

After the initial wave of scientific giddiness had washed over them, Zaphod had to ask, "I still don't get it, man. Is that like a metaphor for something? Or do mathematics work differently depending on what state of mind you're in? Maybe we should get really drunk and think about it again."

"Um... I'm not exactly sure what it means," said Zarniwoop thoughtfully. "But it's our job to find out."

Fenchurch asked, "Could this have something to do with sudden revelations or with flying?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know it sounds odd. But my feet don't actually touch the ground. And also, right before the Vogons blew up the Earth, I had this amazing revelation about how to make everything nice. So I wondered of perhaps Earthlings were on the brink of some kind of quantum leap in evolution. Maybe we were about to become spiritually enlightened and natural flyers. Think of it; a whole planet full of people flying around and with knowledge and wisdom that everybody else in the galaxy has only ever dreamed of. And then maybe Earthlings could have been the only ones to understand the ultimate question and the ultimate answer. And it would have been up to us to explain it to everyone, like priests. We would have been the spiritual leaders in a new and more beautiful galaxy."

But Zarniwoop just shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. That's just ridiculous."

Fenchurch shrugged a resigned shrug. "Or maybe not. Okay," she sighed.

Everyone got up to go, but Fenchurch held them back, "Just a minute. I still want to make sure I understand exactly what's going on here. So Golgafrincham... this planet... was another super computer as well. But this one mainly had the task of making these more technologically advanced people and then sending them on their way. It was made by Magrathea." She turned to Slartibartfast, "So how come you had to look at the rocks to confirm that part? Didn't you know about this?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't know about it. We did have the occasional secret black project going on. Oh, there may have been the odd rumour or two floating around at the time about some sort of backup plan should the Earth fail, or something along those lines. But nothing more than that."

Zarniwoop added, "The theory I'm working on is that the people who lived here were intentionally driven mad. And then they were alienated and made to go and colonize another planet. And then everyone else who stayed behind suddenly died out because the computer programme clearly had no further use for them."

"But that's horrible!" Fenchurch cried. She looked to the others for some kind of confirmation.

Slartibarfast nodded vaguely.

"It is horrible," said Zarniwoop. "And it's one of the many horrible things we're hoping to expose," said Zarniwoop. "The people of the galaxy must know about this."

"Right on," Zaphod agreed.

Everyone stood around in silence, absorbed in their own thoughts for a few moments.

Finally Hugo asked the group, "Would anyone like a cuddle?"


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

That night Fenchurch lay fitfully in her own little tent. The tent was in the archeologist's campsite in the main cavern. She tossed and turned, her head spinning with the new ideas the others had planted there a few hours earlier. And on top of that, she always had trouble sleeping whenever she arrived on a new planet. The gravity was never quite the same from planet to planet. The smells were always different. And though every part of her that was the least bit scientific tried to deny it, she just felt that the "attitude" of the each and every planet was somehow unique.

And all this talk about her origins had only served to remind her of just how alone she truly was. Arthur still stubbornly refused to turn up magically. And she could really have used his company right about now.

She wondered if Arthur was the only one she would ever truly love. Was that a failing on her part? Or did that mean they were destined for each other? Was it perhaps simply because she was from a monogamous race? Had she simply been designed this way by the Golgafrincham or Earth computer programmes? So were her feelings genuine? Or was she merely the product... the _victim_ of her programming?

Of course she had heard of even stronger cases of monogamy than human beings. She had once read of another race that was so monogamous that once they found their life partner, they never left the other's side. They would go to work together. They went to the lavatory together. They did absolutely everything together.

And then of course there was the Washootie race of the planet Ishi-tah. The males and females of the Washootie would physically merge with their significant other and actually became a totally new individual entity. And this entity would then seek out its own significant other and merge with it. And they went on like this for millions of years until they all merged into one god-like, bliss-filled being. Who then died of loneliness a couple of years after achieving total unity.

#

Fenchurch was very tired, but she ached all over from space-lag. So it must have been quite a while since she had last slept. The trouble was that when she was too tired, she always had trouble falling asleep. Or had that evolution machine done something bad to her after all? She wasn't doomed to be tired and yet not able to sleep for the rest of her life now, was she!

She tried to remember the last time she had slept. It wasn't at the restaurant. It wasn't on the _Time Flies_ or the _Suicidal Insanity_. It must've been back in her little corner near the balcony café. She remembered being awaken by a small furry creature from Alpha Centauri who had an annoying laugh that sounded like a small and angry child abusing a trumpet.

Fenchurch wondered if any of the café's employees would miss her. Or even if they would take a moment to wonder what had happened to her. That strange primitive woman who didn't seem to know anything about anything.

And her loneliness continued.

At that point her tent opened and Hugo the android crawled in. He noticed that she had noticed him, and so he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Hello," he said. And on his forehead was a hologramatic image of Hugo himself having sex with Fenchurch.

She therefore knew what he wanted, but had to ask anyway, "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Hugo thought it was obvious. "I just wanted to see if you were all right. I wanted to see if you wanted anything. You know, a cuddle, a sympathetic shoulder, a great big cock."

"No, thank you."

"Oh, but you haven't seen it yet! Can I show you!" Obviously once he showed it to the Earth woman, she would change her mind and let him ravage her.

"No," she said more firmly. "Thank you," she added, simply because she was English.

"I tell you what... can I at least talk to you about it at great length? Maybe you could fall asleep to the sound of my voice as I tell you pornographic stories about myself and my body parts."

"No. Can you just go away, please?"

"Of course I can," he said agreeably. "But I don't want to," he added, equally agreeably. "I'd much rather stay here and have sex."

"Not with me. Just get out of my tent."

"You know," he said, an idea occurring to him suddenly, "if it's only my presence that offends you, I could still give you pleasure... but from outside the tent."

"What?"

"I can give you an orgasm from up to twenty feet away if you like," he said as though it was the best compromise ever and there was no way she would refuse it.

"Hugo, will you just stop it?"

"What? Doing it or talking about it?"

"Both. All of it. Stop it and leave me alone!" Fenchurch was exhausted and getting quite angry.

"Oh, all right." And the android turned to go. Then another idea occurred to him and he turned back to Fenchurch, "Did you know that my genitals are detachable?"

Fenchurch grabbed the pillows and pulled it over her head to wait for his batteries to run down or something.

"Look, here they are." She pulled the pillow down tighter over her face in order to avoid whatever horror it was he was trying to show her. "If you twist it right here," he went on enthusiastically, "it'll give you an instantaneous orgasm. And if you look at the dial, there are lots of different settings available. _My_ genitals go all the way up to twenty!" Apparently he was quite impressed with such a high number. And so he said it again, "Twenty! Can you believe that? Twenty guarantees that you won't be able to walk upright for at least an hour afterwards! It's a pleasure beyond what most people even know they're capable of experiencing! Some sex androids only go up to ten! But President Beeblebrox made sure that he got me... I'm the ultra deluxe model!" He then stopped with his excited sales pitch, and continued on with a much more quiet tone of voice, "I only wish he'd avail himself of my services. But he won't, you know. I'm starting to think that he must be a wanker. Do you think our beloved ex-president is a wanker, Fenchurch?"

"I don't know," came her voice from underneath the pillow.

After several seconds Fenchurch noticed that Hugo had stopped talking altogether. She slowly removed the pillow and looked up to see him sitting there, looking sadly, at his detached genitals in his hands. "Don't you like me?" he asked her.

"Do you know what I would really like, Hugo?"

He instantly brightened up, "What? Name it! Just name it, and it's yours! I'll do anything! I'll give you anything! I'll do whatever you want! I'll wear whatever you want! No matter how racy!"

"I would like you to leave me alone so that I can get some sleep."

The holographic display of pornography on his forehead vanished, to be replaced by an image of Fenchurch herself sleeping peacefully in her tent. "So you really don't want to have sex with me, then."

"No, I don't. Okay?"

"I see. All right. That's all right. Some people are just like that. I'll just go then. And I won't hold it against you. I shall still think very highly of you." The android kissed her gently on the forehead and left her tent, muttering to himself, "Maybe I'll get lucky with that old man."

The flood of relief that surged through her body at that point actually helped Fenchurch drift off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Fenchurch woke up early. She crawled out of her tent and walked groggily over to the main area of the camp. It was perpetually dark in the caves. So she had no idea if it was early morning, or the middle of the night. But her body was awake, and for the experienced space traveler, that was the only reason one needed to get out of bed.

Nobody else seemed to be awake yet. And as she stood there near the dining area wondering what there was to eat and how she was meant to get it, she heard a tone... a warbling tone that seemed to be flying around her like it was some sort of drunken fly which was humming a song it had trouble remembering. She instinctively swatted in the direction of the tone. Then the tone changed very slightly and formed words, "Please don't swat at me."

"What?" Fenchurch didn't know it, but she was speaking to an intelligent sound. It was called a Doodle-e-do. In its relaxed state the Doodle-e-do was a low, warbling tone. It could speak by altering its continuous tone into different words.

"What are you doing?" Fenchurch asked the air in front of her.

"Making everyone breakfast." Then she heard it say, "Breakfast: on."

"Can I help?" Fenchurch asked.

"I already did it. The consumables creation devise is voice-activated. So no help is required here. Thank you."

#

By the time Fenchurch was finishing her toast, the others had all risen from their own tents. They joined her at the table for a quick bite, and then got on with their own work. Work for the two students seemed to consist of a lot of holding tiny little pieces of rock up close to their faces and squinting at them. For the project heads, Zarniwoop and Zaphod, work meant sitting around arguing over what conclusions they could draw from the little bits of rock.

It had all been so exciting yesterday when they had explained everything to her. But then yesterday they were simply summing up the conclusions of all the work they had accomplished so far. And now they were back to work. The boring bit.

So Fenchurch went up to Zarniwoop and Zaphod and asked if there was anything she could do to assist. But they had students to do the digging, and robots for the clearing up. She asked hesitantly if they needed to scan her any more to prove any more of their theories. And they said that they had already scanned her all they needed to, thank you.

And as she wandered around the subterranean dig, Hugo began following her around asking her repeatedly if there was anything _he_ could do to assist _her_.

"No, thank you," she told the android.

"Are you sure?" the android asked hopefully.

"Yes, I'm sure," she insisted. And in fear of a repeat of the night before, she simply hurried on away from Hugo as quickly as she could.

Finally she reached the pit leading up to the surface, and simply leapt up into it. She wasn't sure if it was her own ability to fly, or if this was how the minimal gravity field was supposed to work. And then it occurred to her to wonder why nobody had bothered to explain it to her. Clearly they hadn't reckoned on her ability to fly. She was probably missing some obvious point that everyone else in the galaxy would simply have known.

There were times when she really did feel like a lost puppy. So why had nobody adopted her yet?

She walked out of the cave and into the bright morning sunlight. This planet really was remarkably like the Earth. The landscape was breathtaking in its simplicity. Gently sloping hills covered in lush green trees and tall cool grass. Just what a planet should be. She sat down and drank in the view around her. Was this just the most gorgeous planet ever? Or was she just far more homesick than she knew? A small insect with large wings, a lot like a butterfly flew by. She stuck out a single whimsical finger, and the colourful little insect set down gently on her fingertip. It seemed to glance at her. She wasn't sure, but it seemed to share something deeply spiritual with her. Something that perhaps a more primitive creature could have recognized better. She felt more at peace than she had in years... at least since reading the Message with Arthur.

#

_The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ has a few things to say about the beauty of the various planets hitchhikers might come across in their travels. There are the twin worlds of Safasass Magna with its ringed twin planet sitting proudly in the sky overhead, which has inspired poets and lovers for centuries. The planet Orientahchuss whose skies are filled with winged creatures nearly a mile across, flapping their way slowly through the air in vast herds as they migrate north and then south every year. There are dark planets orbiting round ultra-violet suns making the thick, fluorescent foliage glow in brilliant hues. There are worlds that have natural springs of good vibrations, which star travelers will seek out, and then bliss out. Skies that dance with colourful auroras, and oceans of wobbly Jello-like liquid. There's also the gas giant Lewnellious which is in fact an intelligent life form. Its surface patterns changing in response to the mood of those nearby who have colonized the planet/life form's moons.

And there are beautiful experiences on different worlds as well. On the planet Grobnie Gebnie 13, home of the Glabuwellons who have water running through their brains, there are lakes where hundreds of Glabuwellons go swimming, with the water enabling them to share their thoughts and memories with one another. Hitchhikers who aren't used to such a profound sharing of thoughts are warned that off-worlders have occasionally drowned due to the overwhelming nature of the experience. So hitchhikers are warned to take water wings with them.

But most impressive of all is the planet Flourificus which is so beautiful that it is actually beyond description. Many star travelers have tried over the centuries to tell others about the sights they have seen there. But none have ever been able to provide an adequate description of the planet. Of particular interest on Flourificus is the Valley of Heradrah, which is so beautiful that... over the centuries... the male star travelers have inadvertently flooded the valley with a lake of semen. The _Guide _of course also cautions female star travelers from ever going swimming in this lake for fear of the natural consequences that would then follow.

#

Fenchurch sat on a small hill enjoying the view of the valley below, when she noticed Slartibartfast off to the side, heading in the direction of his ship. She quickly dashed down the hill and caught up to him, "You're not leaving, are you?"

"I'm afraid I have a errand which I must to run."

She fell into step beside him, "Archeology, coastlines or time travel?"

"Bureaucracy, I'm afraid. I must go forwards in time to when my time machine's registration has expired and apply for a retro-active registration."

Fenchurch wasn't sure if this was another of his attempts at humour or not. So she just ignored the dropped and went on to something else, "But you're not going to just leave me alone with these people, are you? I barely know them."

"But you barely know me, Earth woman."

Fenchurch had to admit that this was in fact true. But Slartibartfast was a whole hell of a lot more comforting than Zaphod, Zarniwoop, or that sex-mad robot Hugo. He stood still, turned to face her and put his two reassuring hands on her shoulders, "I'll try to return some time tomorrow."

"But you have a time machine. Why don't you just come back moments after you leave?"

The old man sighed, "Have I mentioned that I work for the Campaign for Real Time?" And he went away slightly cross.

Fenchurch hesitated a moment, unsure if she had made him genuinely cross or not. So she returned to her place on top of the grassy hill, and watched him board his ship. The ship then lifted silently into the air. Then he was gone. And for some reason, she no longer felt entirely safe.

#

Eventually she became bored with the beautiful landscape and headed back to the dig. But before she could get there, she saw another flying craft of some kind. It hovered in the air over her head in what seemed to be a menacing way. Who could it be? But then she remembered that Zaphod and Zarniwoop had said they had asked for the rights to be here, so everything was clearly legitimate. The craft came in lower and slower. And then it landed in front of her. And somehow it managed to land aggressively. She tried to tell herself that there was no way a ship could land aggressively. It had just set down. It didn't come skidding down. It didn't gun its engines like a driver who was angry enough to gun their engines, but somehow too embarrassed to actually honk their horn. But still... she that it was best to just walk away... quickly.

A moment later the ship lifted off, moved ahead of her and landed in front of her again. So once again she changed direction and headed away from the ship. Then the ship lifted off, and hovered directly over her, and a voice came down from the ship, "Will you tell us in which direction you're going, please, so that we can land in front of you?"

She pointed to the left, then immediately headed off to the right. The ship, fortunately for her, landed in the direction in which she had pointed. A small ramp extended, and seven small beings clambered down onto the ground, frowned angrily when they saw a distant Fenchurch heading away through the trees, and then ran to catch up to her.

They were each about three feet high, covered in deep forest green feathers, and had large, beak-like noses.

When Fenchurch glanced over her shoulder and noticed them coming up behind her, she stopped, more out of curiosity than worry. She was actually about to let herself think that they were cute as they waddled up to her and then stared up at her with their beady little black eyes. But then they pulled out their guns and pointed them up at her.

"Hold it," one of them said.

"Yeah, hold it," another confirmed, in case there was any confusion.

"Is there a problem?" Fenchurch asked.

"You are. You are alien. Aliens are not allowed. Not allowed. Get into the craft." They gestured towards their ship.

"Er, you do know, don't you, that I'm with the archeologists," Fenchurch protested. "Over there in the caves under the hill."

They nodded, "We know. We will have to come back for them."

#

The little bird-like aliens transported her to a nearby town and locked her up in a prison facility. As they emptied her pockets, the guards took Sparky the clam from her and put him in a box of confiscated items. But when Sparky began complaining very loudly, they realized that he was a sentient life form, and so they locked him up with Fenchurch again.

#

The next day the rest of the expedition were captured and locked up as well. Zarniwoop, Zaphod, Hugo and the two university students were locked up with Fenchurch.

Mid-way through the day, a minor official waddled into the room and looked up at the prisoners. "Who's in charge," the little alien asked. Zarniwoop stepped forward. He explained to the green feathered being that they had already requested and been given permission to dig here. The alien said that they had to have it in writing. Zarniwoop explained that it had been explained to them that it didn't have to be in writing. And the little alien explained that it did indeed have to be in writing and only foolish aliens who didn't know anything thought otherwise. And he went on to explain that they now had to pay fifty Altairian Dollars... each. Zarniwoop spent a further hour trying to explain things to the little alien. Unfortunately he tried to use reason and the law, when all the little alien wanted was a bribe from the rich off-worlders.

Zaphod even tried to help. Unfortunately his help consisted of explaining who he was and the fact that they ought to be quite impressed by this. But eventually the little alien grew weary of not receiving his bribe, and left the cell.

"Who are these bird people," Fenchurch eventually asked. "Where do they come from?"

"They're called Pahkapohs. They colonized this planet some millennia ago. They originally came from the planet Kakapoo."

Fenchurch blinked a few times as she steadied herself for her next question, "The planet what?"

#

The Pahkapohs from the planet Kakapoo colonized the planet Golgafrincham several thousand years after the planet's original inhabitants had fled or been wiped out by a virulent disease contracted from an unexpectedly dirty telephone. The Pahkapohs were three foot high beings with thick green feathers, large beak-like noses, and with little beady black eyes. At least... that's how they appeared after their standard cosmetic surgery. Left on their own, they would be four foot high creatures with thin yellow down on their backs, with little beady black eyes. They had originally evolved from birds, and had even once had the power of flight. But as they evolved, they gradually became more intelligent, which served to protect them from predators. With intelligence, they could build weapons to harm predators, or walls behind which to hide from predators. Both of which were far less energy-consuming than actually flying to safety had been. And so over the years they eventually lost the power of flight.

Unfortunately they were also very superficial. And once their anthropologists discovered that their ancestors had been birds with the power of flight, and once they also discovered the joys of cosmetic surgery, they soon began altering their bodies. And they became obsessed with re-gaining the power of flight. Over the centuries they began to merge their fashion industry with their religious beliefs. And eventually their fashion-consultant-priests deduced that back when they were birds, they must have had the appearance which God had intended for them. And they also deduced that it must have been their own immorality which then made God take away the gift of flight.

And so they began to surgically alter their bodies to fit this religious ideal. Unfortunately this ideal was just too radical a difference from what they naturally looked like. And so they ended up with a sort of flightless, bird-like compromise. And they also began to worry if perhaps they were doing the right thing. They also assumed that other races were probably asking the same questions about them. And so rather than stop, they decided that it was their holy mission to alter all other life forms as well. So whenever they encountered members of another race, they would capture them, and (even if they were drastically different, with a different number of limbs, came from a planet with a significantly higher or lower gravity pull) the aliens were always altered to look like the holy image of small green bird people.

Enforced evolution was not a new idea. As we have already seen, the Yah-yahs, (which were the lemur-like beings Fenchurch had encountered back aboard the _GSS Suicidal Insanity_), tried to keep their race polite by programming their computers to respond only when the operator would say, "please." Similarly, several million years ago, there were also the Gorgonons of Siserplentuous Twelve who tried to keep their race intelligent by only selling furniture that had to be put together by hand... which then lead to houses and even vehicles only being sold as kits. Unfortunately the end result of this was that pretty soon only a very small number of Gorgonons actually had anything that worked, or indeed a place to live. This had the effect of creating a subculture on the planet Siserplentuous Twelve which rejected the high technology, and returned to nature where they eventually re-evolved into a primitive ape-like race.

Several million years later the higher technologically advanced Gorgonons filled their zoos with their distant cousins, who enjoyed just sitting there and throwing their poo at them.

#

The next day Zarniwoop, Zaphod, Hugo and Fenchurch were each made to wear a head-dress made of day-glow green feathers and were brought into a courtroom. The Pahkapoh court-houses were in fact a mere annex of their churches. At first they felt silly with their day-glow green feather head-gear. They even wondered if it was some sort of public humiliation to which they were being subjected. But once inside the courtroom, they saw that everybody wore them.

In the courtroom was a local television crew from the reality series, "Check Me Out!" Which was actually a blatant rip-off of the previous, and far more popular reality series, "Tell Me I Look Beautiful." The host came up to them before the trial began and said, "We'll be recording you since you're evil icky aliens who are not created in God's image."

"Hey," said an indignant Zaphod. "You're the only unpleasant aliens around here, you know."

"That's perfect," the host said, genuinely thrilled. "Conflict always gets the ratings. Just keep on sounding ignorant, okay?"

Then their defense council, Father Roob Anstruther arrived. He was a bit smaller and a bit portlier than the other Pahkapohs they had encountered so far.

After introducing themselves, Zarniwoop asked, "Where are our two students we had with us?"

"The university posted their bail. They've gone home." Roob then pulled some books out of his briefcase, including, _You and Your Appearance_ by Twirdle Bank-Spot, as well as the best-seller, _How to Look Fantastic Under Any Circumstance, Even After Waking up Hung-Over in a Dirty Alley _by Gung-Ho Leviathan, and _Winning Your Case in Style_ by Pirp Squeal-Heart.

"Listen," he said after finally emptying his brief case on the table before him and then dropping into his chair with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry I'm late. But I had so many things to do this morning that I've been putting off for the last few days, and it all just hit me this morning. I really have to manage my time better." Then he started to count off on his fingers what had made him late, "First off I had to go collect the mail at my office..."

Zaphod held up a hand, "Hey, man, does this have anything to do with us?"

Father Roob realised he was wasting their time, smiled at how stupid he was being, and said, "I guess you're right. Sorry. I do that a lot, I'm afraid. But it was a really heavy couple of days. First I had to get my mail, like I told you. Then my friend Daldo died a few days ago. I had to speak at his funeral." (Fenchurch, Zaphod and Zarniwoop were suddenly sympathetic.) "Then I had the contractor come over and do some work on my floor. That floor is seventy-five years old. My parents had it put in by a guy they knew from when they were kids, can you believe that? And anyway this contractor, who had to drive for three and a half hours to get to my house, told me that the floor had started to turn to liquid, because of the lining material used in the plastic." (Fenchurch, Zaphod and Zarniwoop were starting to lose some of their sympathy at this point.) "He had to get some new plastic from Prakichum... that's the moon farthest from the sun. And when he finally finished, I had some friends come over last night to celebrate the new floor. We planned to walk on the new floor for a couple of hours when one of them got stuck in it!" He laughed at his "friend's" misfortune. "We had to call for help. The rescue team arrived, and they weren't sure what to do, and meanwhile he's sinking up to his stomach!" He was laughing so hard at this point in his tale that he was almost unintelligible. "And while all this is going on, the food for the party was getting cold. So I had to put it back in the heating unit, which I bought last year when there was a sale at the appliance store. It was the store over in Ringing Harbour. I used to go down there when I was a kid..." (Fenchurch, Zaphod and Zarniwoop managed to move from sympathy to loathing at this point... Hugo however was developing a slight crush on the bird-man.)

And fortunately for all involved, the instant after Zaphod decided that murder was the only way for him to stay sane, but the moment before he could actually act on that impluse, the bailiff commanded, "All sit!" Sitting was of course their Pahkapho form of respect. They reasoned that someone is only truly giving their full attention if they're seated comfortably. And it also put them in a position where they had to look up at the judge.

The judge, His Holiness, Cardinal Feather-Spoon, entered. The court all shouted, "Fine plumage!" Zarniwoop, Zaphod and Fenchurch had just enough time and presence of mind to mutter a half-hearted, "... plumage," an instant later. Hugo however added, "_Damn_ fine plumage." Cardinal Feather-Spoon stood before the court, puffed up his chest and strutted back and forth a few times before perching himself at the head of the courtroom.

And then the door at the far side of the court room opened. And representing the Lord God, in walked the attack council... His Grace, Harl van Garl. And upon seeing his legal opponent, Father Roob Anstruther launched himself at him. The two fought fiercely for several seconds, feathers flying in all directions. And then with no apparent signal for them to stop, and no apparent victor either, the two suddenly ceased their combat, turned and sat down at their respective tables.

"What was that all about, man?" Zaphod asked.

Father Roob said simply, "Just opening deliberations."

Judge Cardinal Feather-Spoon called the court to order, then gestured towards His Grace Harl van Garl. Van Garl began his attack, "My friends, as you all know, we were created by God. Not in His image. But rather as His masterpiece. As He saw perfection. And He created us with the holy method of evolution. Evolution is sacred. And those who transgress the laws of God must be punished."

Zaphod stood up and shouted, "Hey, I object, man! I would think that this God dude should be capable of taking care of Himself and anyone who offends Him. Who are you to interfere?"

Hugo's eyes bugged out, "My goodness, that was manly of you."

"Hugo..." Zaphod uttered wearily, his moment of self-righteousness completely deflated.

Judge Feather-Spoon puffed up his chest feathers and squawked, "Council will kindly keep their clients under better control." He let his chest feathers slowly settle down. Then he said in a more conciliatory tone, "However, in the interest of interspecies good relations, perhaps the council for the attack would be good enough to explain the court's views to our ignorant visitors."

"Very good, M'Lud. I am His Grace Harl van Garl... _representing_ the Lord God. I am His duly appointed lawyer. It is my legal and holy duty to see to it that the will of God is carried out. And that those who oppose Him be brought to justice. As the court knows, I have successfully sued the Hagunenons for evolving too quickly, as well as ninety-seven individuals who have engaged in personal flight. Flight!" he said in disgust. "Transgressors of the law of gravity! God's law!" Fenchurch shrunk down. His Grace Harl van Garl darted his beady little black eyes in her direction. He knew. Somehow he knew!

"We have read the reports from these so-called archeologists. We now know what they are up to. They are preparing a learned paper to suggest that evolution is not in fact the will of God. But rather that it is controlled through a machine!"

The court began hooting and cawing angrily.

Van Garl went on above the noise, "And there's more!" He suddenly rounded on Fenchurch, "_This_ alien can fly!"

The hooting and cawing reached insane levels of volume.

The attack council continued his rant above the angry crowd, "She can fly! In direct violation of gravity, which is the will of God!"

Roob spoke up, "Objection. Clearly my colleague's mind is moulting." The noise in the courtroom died down. Everyone looked at Father Roob expectantly. He then held up a defensive hand and laughed nervously, "Not really. Sorry. Maybe I shouldn't use the world moulting. But it is not very well known that the very nature of gravity is still a point of contention. I refer you to the work of Doctor Peregrin Poindexterous who's current theory suggests to us that gravity is not in fact pulling. But rather it is a force created by vacuum that pushes towards mass."

The judge shook his head. "Overruled. Doctor Poindexterous has been found guilty of stupidity."

Harl van Garl addressed the judge, "I ask that this flying alien be put in the conscience verifier."

"Let it be done."

The bailiff gestured to Fenchurch to come forwards. She gave a worried look to their defense council Father Roob, who tried to avoid eye contact. So she followed the bailiff.

He escorted her to a metallic booth on the side of the courtroom. She stepped inside, and was bathed in a warm light. She waited nervously. But after a moment, she relaxed. It wasn't so bad. In fact it felt a lot like a relaxing shower.

#

The conscience verifier booths used by the Pahkapohs on the planet Golgafrincham actually interfaced with a person's own conscience. An image of the person placed in the machine would appear on a screen on the outside of the booth. The image was in fact that person's conscience personified. Questions would then be asked, and the conscience would answer with complete honestly. In this way they were able to find out a person's true feelings without fail.

Or rather, _almost_ without fail. When the devise was eventually tried out on politicians to determine whether or not they were suited for running for political office, the Pahkapohs found more and more of their politicians to be self-seeking, corrupt criminals. Until there were virtually none left. After a while the politicians that were left made the use of these machines on political leaders illegal, citing forged documentation from unqualified scientist friends of theirs, which claimed that the conscience verifier booths caused brain damage... but only to the type of person who runs for political office. And so for the common people in a court of law, their brains were of an inferior kind and would therefore suffer no brain damage.

#

In the courtroom, Fenchurch's face appeared on a screen on the outside of the booth. "Name?" His Grace Harl van Garl asked.

"Fenchurch."

"Occupation?"

"Currently unemployed."

"Can you fly?"

"Yes, I can."

"Has this archeological expedition shown you machines which they claim can influence the forces of evolution?"

"Yes, they have."

Van Garl spread his feathered arms, "Open and shut! I rest my case!"

"Council for the defense?"

Father Roob Anstruther began pacing the courtroom. "M'Lud, I would have to ask for a postponement of these proceedings. As the court knows, I haven't been in the best of health lately. I actually have some paper work from my personal physician stating that my weak heart is acting up again. And this could have something to do with the flooring that's been going on in my home recently, as I explained to my clients. You know that house of mine. If it's not one thing, it's another. And the contractor I hired keeps claiming that he doesn't have the right tools with him. I can't tell you how many times he had to go away and come back..."

"Council will kindly stick to the case."

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. M'Lud, I would like to ask for a postponement of these proceedings."

"For what reason?"

"Well, honestly I'm just not feeling too well. I have this thing where I have an urge to walk on tip-toes. It's strange, M'Lud. I was planning on seeing a neurologist. But my medical plan doesn't cover paranoid hypochondria. So I sent in an application for a new plan with 'Skin n' Bones' medical insurance. You know the commercials? The ones with the girl with the long legs..."

"Objection!" shouted His Grace Harl van Garl. "The council for the defense is an idiot. I move that he be gagged."

"It is so ordered," the judge said. He then motioned to the bailiff, who grabbed the struggling Father Roob, and roughly fitted a gag over his mouth.

Everyone in the courtroom sighed with relief. The judge then puffed up his chest plumage and began strutting in front of the court again, "It is the decision of this court that the aliens are guilty of flagrant disregard of the will of God. They are to be taken from this place where something truly revolting is to be done to their bodies. Said truly revolting act is to be video-taped. Said video-tape to be sold in all markets. The proceeds of said video-tape to be contributed to the foundation for annoyed judges."

And he dismissed the court and went to go take a nap.


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Fenchurch, Zarniwoop, Zaphod and Hugo sat in their cell. The cell consisted of four bedrooms, a living area, kitchen, dining room, two lavatories, patio and a shallow wading pool perched at the top of large column (obviously a bird's idea of a bath). Zarniwoop was reading a book on the history of Pahkapoh life here on Golgafrincham. Zaphod was sipping his latest alcoholic creation he'd made at the cell's built-in bar. And Fenchurch was trying to wrest the television remote control from Hugo, who wanted to watch the local pornography channel all day.

There was a discrete knock on the door. And then a little green bird-man waddled in. They had seen several officials and several guards since their incarceration, but they hadn't met this fellow before. He took one look at the four captives, winced in apparent pain, and said, "Oh, dear. Losers. I knew it. I am Rollo Acrock, the leader of this planet."

Zaphod felt a challenge. He set his drink down, came up to little bird-man, and like a duelist, he parried with, "Well, I am Zaphod Beeblebrox, man! Bird," he amended a moment later."

"Oh, my word. How frightfully obnoxious you are," said the little bird-man.

"Me!" Zaphod countered. "Hey, man, there must be some kind of bug up your butt."

Fenchurch was slightly startled to hear an Earth expression out of the mouth of Zaphod. But in fact, it wasn't an expression at all. What Zaphod was actually referring to was an insect called the Zowlfeeler bad vibe anal blow bug of Zirkle Tronious 11. The Zowlfeeler bad vibe insect actually did blow bad psychological vibrations, also known as bad vibes. And the females preferred to lay their eggs in a moist, warm environment. And they had an unusual preference for smells that most other life forms in the galaxy found to be thoroughly unpleasant. (This was actually a survival strategy which usually served to keep their eggs away from predators.) So when several of the first star travelers to settle on Zirkle Tronious 11 became more and more unpleasant, so much so that several of them actually had to be shot, post mortems revealed that their rectums were in fact filled with these insects, which had been blowing bad vibes into them.

It is interesting to note that repeating the phrase "bad vibe blow bug" over and over as quickly as possible eventually became a warm-up exercise for sub-etha radio personalities.

Rollo Acrock, as it happens, did not have a bug up his butt. He merely had a superiority complex. He smiled as he approached Fenchurch. "And who are you, might I ask?"

"Fenchurch," she said simply.

"How do you do, Fenchurch? You're very pretty if you don't mind my saying so."

"What if I do mind your saying so?"

"Then you still are, but you didn't hear it from me."

He turned to address the others, "I am here to offer you a deal... If you show us how to use the evolution emitter devises to help us alter our physical appearances, we will let you go. In the meantime, I wish to study this young lady and her ability to fly."

Fenchurch was about to protest. Back in the courtroom it was made quite clear that evolution and gravity were two of God's most important laws. And now here they were trying to bargain for the secrets to defying both! But just as she opened her mouth to say something along those lines, she also realised that this was probably the only way they could get out of this situation alive. So she closed her mouth again

"I wonder," Rollo Acrock said to her. "Would you like to come away with me?"

She looked down at the little person speaking to her. He was more or less identical to all the other Pahkapohs: three feet high, covered in green feathers, and with a large, beak-like nose. "No, thank you," she said, mostly confused at the extra attention he was giving her.

"Now, don't be so quick to say no."

"I'm afraid I already have. Anyway what on Earth could I possibly get out of it?"

"It would stop me from keeping the original sentence in regards to your friends. And I would let them continue their archeological studies here on our planet."

Zaphod smiled, "Hey, hang about there, Fenny-doll," Fenchurch winced. She hated being called Fenny. "This dude might not be as bad as he looks, you know?"

She said, "But if I go off with this... person... I wouldn't be able to assist you at the dig."

Zaphod and Zarniwoop gave each other uncomfortable looks. Zarniwoop finally said slowly and hesitantly, "Well, as it happens we've already got everything we need from you. But we thank you for all your cooperation. Rest assured, we'll put this new scientific knowledge to good use."

"Oh," she said. And then with as much anger and sarcasm as she could muster, "Thank _you_!" And she followed Rollo to the door.

"Wait!" Hugo ran up to her, "Here. I want you to have this. Something to remember me by." Fenchurch couldn't believe what he had just put in her hand. So she quickly stuck it into her pocket. She patted the android's arm affectionately, "Goodbye, Hugo." Then she turned and followed Rollo out the of the cell.

A few minutes later the usual waiter and accompanying guard entered the cell with Zarniwoop's and Zaphod's meals. Zaphod watched the waiter set their food down on the table and turn to go. "Just a second there," he said nervously. "I thought we were gonna be let outta here, pronto. Your leader dude just gave us the all-clear, you know?"

"You will be released some time tomorrow, after you've undergone surgical alteration."

"Alteration! But we _are_ gonna be set free... right!"

"Of course. But only after we've corrected your physical short-comings."

#

Fenchurch followed Rollo down a couple of corridors, through a door and into... his bedroom. This didn't look good. He saw her worried expression and held up two placating hands. "Don't worry. I'm not going to force myself on you. But of course I wouldn't be too surprised if you forced yourself on me," he said in what he imagined to be a sly grin. "The truth of the matter is I'm just tired of forcing myself on women. In fact I'm tired of everything! You see, I've finally achieved everything I've ever wanted." He then started counting off his accomplishments on his fingers, "I've tortured and killed all who have opposed me. I've outlawed wearing your underpants higher than your trousers! And now I'm just bored. Bored, bored, bored."

He waddled up to Fenchurch and looked up at her. "Did I mention I was bored?"

"Yes, I believe you did," she said agreeably.

"And then you came along," he said. "And apparently you can _fly_! That's fantastic! We've been slowly altering our bodies for centuries in order to try to regain the gift of flight. But you can just _do_ it!"

"Well, I don't see what you want me to do about it. It's not like I can pass on the secret. I don't even know how I do it. All I know is that my feet don't touch the ground."

"Oh, that's quite all right. I shall study you. I shall scrutinize you. And then I shall know the secret of flying. I like a good challenge."

They both heard a muffled voice from Fenchurch's pocket. She reached in and pulled out Sparky the clam. "Let me have a word with the bird, Boss."

"Be my guest."

Fenchurch held the clam down towards Acrock. And Sparky began, "If it's a challenge you want, I'm sure we can find ways for you to challenge yourself."

Rollo laughed at the idea. This little clam clearly had no idea of just how accomplished Rollo actually was. "I'm afraid that challenging me would be too much of a challenge for you... if you see what I mean. Trust me."

"You've done everything that you want to do?"

"Yes, of course I have." He knew that the clam was trying to manipulate him. "There's nothing you can suggest that I wouldn't be able to do. Say it, name it, and I can do it."

"Really?" Sparky said doubtfully.

"Try me," Rollo said challengingly.

"Then become a philanthropist," Sparky said.

Rollo felt as though he had been coasting down hill on a pair of hover skates, and suddenly slammed head-first into the butt of a thirty ton mega elephant. It took him several seconds to extricate himself from the metaphorical anus in which he suddenly found himself. It took him several more seconds to get out the single word, "What?"

"Do good deeds. I dare you."

Rollo tried to recover, "You're only saying that so that I will let you go. You are transparent."

"My motives don't matter. You wanted a challenge, and the challenge is there. Can you do it or not?"

He steadied his chin, "Well, of course I can do it. I can do anything."

"So do it."

"Yes," Fenchurch added. "Do it. As a matter of fact, I dare you too."

Rollo remained quiet for a few moments, running several different scenarios through his head to be sure it was do-able. Finally he nodded, "All right. I'll do it. But you're coming with me. Both of you."


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Several armed guards forced Zaphod, Zarniwoop and Hugo into a room, the looks of which they didn't like at all. There were knives, scalpels, drills, and a collection of other sharp instruments which they couldn't immediately identify. There were spare body parts floating in liquid-filled glass containers... and several operating tables with heavy-duty leather restraints.

"Hey, what is all this, man?" Zaphod asked, desperately hoping that if they had to say out loud what they were about to do to him that they might somehow become too embarrassed to actually do it.

Unfortunately he was way off. "We're going to surgically alter your bodies to be more in line with the will of God," said one of the surgeons as he sharpened a long and serrated cutting implement of some kind.

"We were told that you were going to let us go," Zarniwoop protested. "We did a deal with Rollo Acrock himself! We were going to show you what we've learned about the psychic wave interferon emitters!"

"That's _after_ we fix you up," the surgeon said with a smile.

"But there's no need to do this," Zarniwoop went on.

"Why not?" the surgeon asked, genuinely taken aback.

Zarniwoop hesitated. "Well..."

The surgeon leaned in closer and shot his beady little black eyes at Zarniwoop's face. "I'll have to get back to you on that," Zarniwoop eventually said.

The surgeon went back to his tools on the other side of the room. Zarniwoop whispered to Zaphod, "We've got to think of way to get out of here!"

"It'd better be a good reason if you want to convince these people, man. They're religious fanatics." And then a moment later Zaphod brightened up, "Hey," he said excitedly.

"Did you think of something?" Zarniwoop asked.

"I sure did. Listen, these people are obsessed lunatics, right?"

"More or less," Zarniwoop said, hoping that none of them were near enough to over-hear their conversation.

"So let's not waste our time thinking up a _good_ reason for them to let us go. Why don't we come up with an obsessive, crazy reason!"

Hugo pitched in, "How about we need to be set free so that I can go out and abuse the local lady birds!"

"That's crazy, man."

"I know! Exactly!" Zarniwoop shot Zaphod a "see what you've done?" look. Still enthusiastic, Hugo went on, "And of course the bonus is, if they believe me, I can actually go out and do it!"

But before they could develop their plan any further, the armed guards forced the three of them down onto the waiting operating tables at gunpoint. And then they were strapped down.

Zaphod and Zarniwoop were extremely nervous. Hugo however seemed to be enjoying the whole thing. "This is fantastic! Where have you guys been all my life! Are you going to abuse me?"

"No, Hugo. They're going to turn us into bird people."

"Wow! I wonder what it's like to be a bird?"

Zaphod thought about this for a moment, "They moult, they lay eggs. Sounds dull, man." Then another thought hit him, "Hey, man, if we wait here long enough, maybe they'll all have to go and migrate or something."

Then they heard a familiar tone. It was the Doodle-e-do! The intelligent sound life form. It had come to rescue them! Zarniwoop and Zaphod felt hope surge through their bodies like a hot drink on a cold morning. Zarniwoop then felt a quick pang of guilt as he realised that it hadn't even occurred to him to worry about the Doodle-e-do since their capture. It could have been dead, silenced forever, and it hadn't even crossed his mind to wonder if it was alive. He made a quick mental note to remember to be nicer to the Doodle-e-do in future.

One of the surgeons took out a hand-held machine of some kind, analyzed the tone made by the Doodle-e-do, and emitted an identical tone from the machine a fraction of a second out of phase, thus killing it with phase cancellation. The tone ceased. The surgeon set his machine down and got back to his surgical preparations.

"Well," said Zaphod. "That was nice while it lasted."

Then the students came in. Not the archeological students who had been working with them in the dig. These were Pahkapohs, and they were medical students here to study the cosmetic alterations performed by the surgeons. They came over to the tables and looked at Zarniwoop, Zaphod and Hugo like they were specimens in a jar. They whispered to each other, "I wish that I had studied for this. But that party last night, man...!"

"Oh, I know!" the second student agreed enthusiastically. "Did you see when Sarligag belly-flopped into the keg-pool!" And the two students stifled a laugh, eying the nearby surgeons, hoping they hadn't noticed their rather unprofessional attitude. Unfortunately for them one of the surgeons did notice, and cast a disapproving glance in their direction.

They stopped snickering. But the whispering continued, "They're not going to make us do any actual cutting so soon, are they?"

"I hope not. I can't stop from shaking whenever I see blood."

"Oh, I just know I'm gonna puke if I see blood this morning."

The surgeons came over to the operating tables.

Behind Zaphod's, Zarniwoop's, and Hugo's heads, they heard the motors of heavy machinery start up. The students joined the surgeons, and none of them could be seen at this point. They could only be heard...

"Does anybody know what this devise is?"

There was a pause.

"Nobody?"

There was another pause.

"Damn. I was hoping you could tell me. I keep finding it here in the operating theatre, and I never know what to do with the damned thing."

"It looks like it goes in the patient. Like... (whoever was speaking at this point strained as though they were contorting their body) maybe it goes in there somewhere."

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would we want to insert such a thing there?"

"Well... we could always try it and find out."

"I don't think that would be very responsible. So, which of you knows the first thing to be done in an operation of this sort?"

"Knocking out the patients."

"Do you mean anesthetizing?"

"Yeah. Anesthetizing the patients."

"And how do we do that?"

"With one of these?"

"Did you two study for this?"

"Uh..."

"This is for removal of the brain!"

"Oh, right..."

"_This_ is for anesthetizing."

"Oh, ow! Doesn't it hurt?"

At this point they heard the door at the far side of the room slide open. "It's all right," said an older voice on the other side of the room. "It's only me."

The surgeons grabbed some sharp instruments and charged at the old man who had just entered... and then froze. They went from a run to an absolute statue in mid-stride. "Oh, that's a relief," said Slartibartfast. "The pause button does still work."

The medical students held their hands up defensively and edged around Slartibartfast and out the door... where they immediately began running.

"Hey, Slartibartfast, man, are we pleased to see you!"

"Hello," the old man said casually. He came over to their tables and un-strapped the three of them. "Shall we go?"

"What about Fenchurch?" Hugo asked.

"Oh, she'll be all right," Slartibartfast said. "Apparently I end up taking her to a restaurant."

"Hey, what!" Zaphod blurted out. "The rest of us are about to be surgically altered to look like a bunch of birds, and you decided to take the Earth girl out on a date! And I thought I kept a cool couple of heads."

"No, it's nothing like that. And anyway, I haven't actually done it, you see. At least not yet."


	12. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Rollo Acrock spent the next several days thinking about the challenge. He had to do a good deed. It would at least be a novel experience for him. But he could do it, by Zarquon! He could do anything! He thought about feeding some undeserving starving masses somewhere... no, too tedious. Rescuing endangered species... what would be the point? They all die off eventually; nothing lives forever. He could clean up graffiti or litter? No, not big enough. Kill all the lawyers? That was certainly a worthy cause, but the trouble was he occasionally required their services.

This was ridiculous! He couldn't come up with anything liberal enough to waste his time with a worthy challenge.

Then he remembered hearing about a planet just a couple of light years away called Gimpel. Apparently the "intelligent" beings there had been at war for thousands of years. They were small purple beings about a foot high, but with a five foot long neck sticking straight up. The two factions involved were the rather violent Replidians, and the peaceful, primitive and highly artistic Dezmundos. For thousands of years the Replidians had been either overtly or clandestinely killing the Dezmundos. Everyone knew about this, they just did nothing to stop it.

He would stop the violence! Perfect! He briefly considered helping the Replidians wipe out their enemies. It would be quick, and the war would be over sooner. But then he thought that Fenchurch might not understand the complexities involved with ending a war. Women were like that. She would probably think it was important to side with the peaceful ones. So even though it made his job harder, he would rescue the Dezmundos.

There was only one slight drawback as far as he could see. He had in his personal art collection several examples of Dezmundo art. This art was highly sought-after throughout the galaxy, because of its originality, its boldness, it's transcendental qualities, but mainly because of its scarcity. If Rollo removed the Replidians from the equation, the Dezmundos would be free to create much more art, and its value would therefore decrees dramatically.

But then an idea occurred to him; he would sell off all of his Dezmundo art before he wiped out the Replidians! He would make a fortune! Perfect! Win-win!

#

It was a quiet afternoon when the Pahkapoh battle fleet came roaring in out of the purple Gimpel sky. Rollo Acrock's battlefleet struck the less advanced Replidian cities with super-string bombs. Every shopping mall, every school, every home, every park, every house of ill repute, every Replidian structure of any kind was gone inside a week. And now... his forces were in the mop-up stage, tracking down and eliminating those few individuals who had fled into the hills and forests.

From the command flight deck of his flag ship, Rollo proudly surveyed the holocaust below. Entire continents were in flames. Airwaves were silenced. The skies were free of commercial traffic. Most of the roads were not just free of traffic, but were completely gone.

Finally he had Fenchurch brought to the flight deck to show her what he had done. "And it really wasn't all that hard after all," he said, smugly. "Turns out there's not all that much difficulty in being a philanthropist. I really don't know what the big deal is."

Fenchurch looked at the screen displaying the carnage below. She had to fight back the urge to vomit. It took her several minutes before she could finally bring herself to say, "What have you done?"

"Oh, I've just managed to kill off all the evil people on this planet," he replied casually.

"And, I'm sorry, remind me what made them evil?"

Was this a trick question? "Well," he said. "They were trying to kill off an entire species."

Fenchurch just looked at him. Whatever else Rollo was, he wasn't a complete idiot... intellectually anyway. Surely he would understand what he had just said.

And then it hit him. "Okay," he said, bobbing his head in embarrassment. "But these people... well... they started it! All I'm doing is using their own tactics against them. And I'm just doing it to stop them. When I'm done, there won't be any more killing."

"I'm sure they thought the same thing."

"But they were wrong. Surely you can see that?" Fenchurch continued to stare at him in shock and revulsion. Then an idea hit him. He pointed an accusing finger at her, "I see what you're doing. You're trying to deny the fact that I was able to do a good deed. Huh? Am I right? Well, it won't work. I _have_ done a good deed. And I'll prove it to you. I'm throwing a big reception next week to honour my work here. Then you'll see."

Fenchurch stood still, a chill running up and down her spine... a cold, dead feeling in the pit of her stomach. He had done all this on her suggestion. Somehow she had a part to play in all this. She had trouble breathing. She felt light-headed. And then, thankfully, she passed out.

#

A week later Rollo Acrock was preparing his triumphant return to Golgafrincham. There would be a parade. His soldiers would be hailed as heroes. He would set up a new reality programme to follow them around and show the public that they're all just regular every-day Pahkapohs. He would distribute medals. He would make some moving speech over the graves of those thirteen soldiers who had died to liberate the Dezmundos. He would give away free restaurant vouchers to the families of those brave soldiers who had died defending Golgafrincham. Oh, if only he could have thought of doing this on an election year!

But before leaving, he had to make all kinds of modifications to the planet Gimpel and to those who had survived his assistance. First off, and mainly to appease that crazy Earth woman, he had decided to leave a few of the Replidians alive. He set up a programme which would give the survivors modern (by his planet's standards) clothes, give them a proper (by his culture's standards) education, feed them appropriate (by his food industry's factory standards) food, and would give them modern (by his construction industry's standards) concrete apartment blocks in which to live. And best of all he would integrate the Replidians with the Dezmundos. They would all receive the same benefits. He would rescue the poor, primitive Dezmundos from having to make art and plant their own food and live in huts. He would completely modernize this planet. Now _that_ was a good cause!

#

The night before he was to leave the planet, there was the official reception to celebrate his accomplishments. Rollo had set it up himself. In attendance were a couple of token Dezmundos and Replidians who were also going to be left in charge of their planet, answerable to a permanent Pahkapoh council. There were some visiting dignitaries and movie stars from neighbouring star systems he had invited. But mainly the ceremony consisted of Rollo's close advisory staff and their families flown in from Golgafrincham.

Fenchurch was given an expensive cloak of bright green feathers to wear for the evening.

She walked into the enormous banquet hall aboard the flag ship. Although what a banquet hall was doing aboard a military battle ship, she didn't know. She walked amongst the aliens, trying to feel relaxed.

The food table caught her eye. It was fantastically long, and there was an even longer line of people waiting at it. She helped herself to a plate and got in line with the others. The food was elegantly designed and sculpted, and some of it moved like little cranes in a miniature city diorama. One display platter had a small waterfall of some kind of beverage flowing into a landscape made of some sort of salad. As she looked through the displays for something to eat, she realized that she couldn't actually identify any of the food on the table with any degree of certainty. Of course she wasn't from Gimpel or Golgafrincham. But she had been here on the flag ship for the past couple of weeks, and had also been to several other planets over the past few years, and so had started to see the same kinds of food here and there.

And then she noticed the proud chefs standing smugly behind their creations. So she asked one of them what it was they were looking at.

"This here is called Whipped Bagabaganosh in a light nut cream sauce."

Fenchurch blinked a few times, realized that wasn't getting her anywhere, and so finally asked, "Do you think I might try some, please?"

The chef looked as though she had asked him if she could stick her feet in it. He ruffled his feathers agitatedly for a few moments, before quickly calming down. "Oh, yes. That is very amusing." And then he looked away, doing his best to ignore her.

Fenchurch looked at the others around her. And she noticed everyone else's plates. Nobody had taken any of the food. She looked up at the head of the line, and saw that as people were leaving the food table, they were placing their plates down in a stack and walking away. Nobody was eating! But she had seen Pahkapohs eat! What was going on!

Well, whatever was going on, there was nothing for it. She continued on in the line, admiring the dishes before her, until she reached the end of the line. There she set her plate down on top of the others and wandered back into the main part of the banquet hall.

The tradition of not eating at official ceremonies all started years ago when Crocker Rocker, a Pahkapoh chef, made what he considered to be the finest meal of his career. He was in fact so proud of it that he stood over it, discouraging people from eating it. His presence wasn't entirely necessary however. Most of the guests had no idea what they were actually looking at, or indeed if it was even edible. But photographs of Crocker Rocker's masterpiece, however, eventually made it into the latest culinary periodicals.

Other chefs soon heard of this, saw the pictures, and decided to out-do the young upstart of a chef. And soon an unofficial competition was underway, with chefs creating virtual sculptures for the eye, rather than the pallet... and refusing to let anyone eat them.

Fortunately for Fenchurch, a side effect of this showy culinary ceremony was that people still just wanted to eat. And so there was always a nearby room where they simply served sandwiches.

Rollo Acrock stepped up to the perch at the front of the room. Everyone applauded dutifully. "Well... hooray for me!" The dutiful applause continued. "As I'm sure you all know, I have brought about peace on the planet Gimpel. Peace, after nearly five thousand years of conflict." He waited again for more applause... which he got. Just not very enthusiastically.

"Of course what most of you don't know is how little I actually care. Do you know the truth of the matter? Well, the truth is I did this on a dare!" And he laughed. "I'm quite serious. I don't care about right from wrong." And he said it bitterly, as though those who did care about such things were fowl and diseased. "No," he went on. "I did this because I can. Because I can do anything. So hooray for me, and the fact that I can do anything!" The applause was robotic at this point. Rollo turned to one of his aides in the crowd, "Am I not right, Raldack?"

Unfortunately, Raldack was an honest Pahkapoh, and not quite smart enough to know when to keep his beak-like mouth shut. "Uh... not entirely."

"What do you mean?"

"It turns out that crime has actually increased, percentage-wise."

Rollo left his perch and stepped up close to Raldack. "How can it?" he whispered urgently.

"We've done a study. It transpires that the Dezmundos are sort of empathy vampires."

"I'm sorry, what!"

"Empathy vampires. What they've been doing all these years is sucking up all the empathy from the Replidians. And so with no empathy left, the Replidians have appeared to everyone else as horrible killers, and the Dezmundos looked like just a bunch of really nice guys. But now the Replidians are almost extinct. And the Dezmundos are acting like addicts. When you remove the drug, or empathy in this case, upon which they have become dependant, they are now worse off than even the Replidians appeared to be."

Rollo shook his head in frustration, "But there's nothing left for them to fight about. Why are they fighting?"

"It turns out that now the Replidians are no longer a threat, the Dezmundos mostly argue about art."

"Oh." Rollo pondered that one for a moment. And then a thought struck him. "Simple! I now officially out-law art."

Fenchurch got up and walked out of the room.

#

She sat alone in her quarters on the Pahkapoh flag ship. She held her small clam in her hand. "When are we going to get out of this, Sparky?"

"Soon, Boss," came the high-pitched reply.

She was hopeful, but didn't want to get too excited on the word of a clam. "How can you be so sure?"

"Well, I'm running our situation through my head, and I just don't see how it can go anywhere from here. On several levels, it's about to reach a head. Here comes one of them now."

Fenchurch waited a moment. Nothing happened. "Here comes what now?"

There was a knock on her door. She slipped the clam back into her pocket and opened the door.

"We'll be ready to leave within the hour," Acrock said, entering her quarters without being invited. "The Dezmundo and Replidian representatives are heading to the shuttle bay now."

"And then what?"

"And then I study you in more detail to find out how it is you can fly."

Oh, yes. She had actually forgotten that.

"I've already told you, I don't know how I do it."

Rollo Acrock nodded thoughtfully. He squinted his little black eyes. "Then I shall have you dissected. I will let my scientists study you until they have divined your secret. But rest assured, dear lady, I will get what I want. I always do."

Fenchuch reached into her pocket to find Sparky. Even if she didn't consult with him, just the mere physical contact with her little friend would give her some small measure of comfort. But as her fingers felt around for the clam, she suddenly felt something else. It was the thing that Hugo had given her when she saw him for the last time.

Rollo turned to go. Fenchurch said, "Just a moment." She pulled out the detached android genitals, twisted the dial up to maximum, pointed it at Acrock, and fired!

Rollo Acrock felt his legs turn to goo as a profound stimulation shot through his own genitals, making him drop to the floor. There was a sudden wet patch on his trouser crotch. And he lay on the floor moaning in what sounded an awful lot like ecstacy.

Fenchurch took a moment to reflect on how effective the android penis was as a weapon. She even thought that if she understood the workings of the galaxy better, she could market it as such. But then she realized she would probably have to consort with weapons dealers and the sorts of people who frequent gun shows. So she quickly changed her mind.

There were many types of weapons used across the galaxy. There was of course the standard laser gun. Later models had not only a kill setting, but a stun setting as well. Even later models had a vision correction laser setting added. There were also many non-lethal forms of weaponry. Some guns made their target frightened. But these turned out to have unfortunate side effects, as frightened people were usually unpredictable people. Another highly unpredictable weapon was based on the Infinite Improbability drive, when virtually anything could happen to the target, even turning into a giant flesh-eating monster was sometimes known to happen.

The military forces on the planet Goozlemomo came up with an intelligent gun which could judge for itself whom to kill and when. Unfortunately, the intelligent guns were just that; intelligent. And they therefore always decided that it was never appropriate to take a life. The Goozlemomo military quickly got rid of these guns in favour of angry bigot pistols. The intelligent guns however eventually left the planet Goozlemomo, and set up their own animal rights organization on the planet Doomwattle Nine.

Fenchurch walked as casually as she could through the corridors of the flag ship. She was a familiar enough sight to the crew by this time, and so was not stopped.

She made her way down to the hangar on the lowest part of the ship. There she found the shuttle loading the token Dezmundos and Replidians for transport back down to the planet surface. She paused for just a moment to steady herself for the bluff, and then walked as purposefully as she could right past the slightly startled Pahkapoh guard and into the waiting shuttle. Inside, she found a vacant seat almost large enough to accommodate her larger frame, and strapped herself in. The Dezmundos and Replidians all round her looked at her in confusion. But none of them asked any questions. Clearly she knew what she was doing. And they were all quite used to being pushed around at this point.

The engine came on. Was she actually going to pull this off? She tensed up and waited for alarms to sound. She waited for armed Pahkapohs to come rushing in.

And then the shuttle lifted off... and shot forward! She'd made it!

Inside her quarters, Rollo Acrock lay on the floor having the happiest night of his entire life.


	13. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Fenchurch found herself living on the streets once again... which was really annoying. Why was that? Why couldn't she just find for herself some kind of occupation? Why wasn't there some sort of group set up to help pathetic aliens get their lives together? There had to be other aliens out there who were in her position! There must have been other planets like Earth that weren't very advanced. And... well... now that she thought about it, those people probably never made it out into the galaxy as she had done. It all served to make her feel more and more isolated.

She didn't know if Rollo Acrock's soldiers were looking for her or not. So she tried to keep a low profile. And living on the streets seemed about as low as she could get.

She tried to make herself comfortable among the trash behind one of Rollo Acrock's new concrete apartment blocks that dominated the skyline like a group of giant, oppressive monoliths. A nearby argument interrupted her black mood. Walking around the corner were two aliens shouting violently at each other. Being small purple beings about a foot high, but with a five foot long neck, so their tiny heads were more or less level with her own, they were typical Dezmundos. Then one began hitting the other. The one being attacked dropped to the sidewalk as the other kept pounding on him until there was a sort of wet splatter sound to every punch. And then the other alien stopped moving. The one who had just done the deed stood up and howled some sort of primal victory cry up into the purple sky. Fenchurch felt like a deer caught in headlights. She couldn't move her feet. The Dezmundo then noticed that she was looking at him. She froze! She would probably be next! She was about to die! But the Dezmundo just frowned at her and said, "What are you looking at!"

She used every ounce of will power she had left to turn and walk quietly away. Her legs were wobbly and felt like they were about to give out at any second. She willed the murderer to stay where he was and ignore her. She reached the far corner, turned, and was now out of his sight. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Once she reached the next corner, she turned to look behind her, and saw that the killer was not following her.

She eventually found another garbage pile in which to sleep that night. And when she finally settled down and stopped shaking, the tears began. And she cried herself to sleep.

#

Over the next few weeks on the planet Gimpel, the Dezmundo art scene became more and more filled with images of dead Replidians. The artistic little Dezmundos suffered from an overwhelming guilt complex about the near genocide committed on their behalf. And now the anguish of the tortured artists clung to the subject and their creative hearts spewed it back out into the universe like an angst-ridden supernova. They now had the deaths of millions of souls hanging over their heads, haunting them in their dreams. And they expressed it in their paintings, sculptures, music, poetry, and literature. The entire planet Gimpel took on a new guilt that was almost tangible. One could feel it like a wet armpit.

There were regular suicides committed in the streets. There were regular murders. And then one day, Fenchurch encountered a group of local artists.

She sat on a pile of trash, trying to stretch out a small bag of nut chips to last her the rest of the day when six of the little purple beings came up to her. "Yes?"

"You're an alien," one of them said to her.

"Well, yes. I suppose I am."

"We are artists. We want you to participate in our latest project."

She was intrigued. Perhaps it was something as simple as modeling. She could stand still easily enough. Perhaps they would even pay her. It might even become a regular gig. She could even sleep in their studio. They could probably work out something along those lines. "Possibly," she said. "What is it?"

"We would like to blow you up."

Or maybe not. She blinked several times before saying, "What _can_ you mean?"

"We're going to put some explosives in your body, detonate them, and watch you explode!" The little creature held up a hand excitedly, "But that's not all! We will then video the event! And when we play it back, it will be in extreme slow motion. We will be able to see your body fragment and fly apart into millions of wet pieces. It will be very graceful, very beautiful."

Another little alien nodded enthusiastically with his long, long neck. "Awesome. It'll be just awesome. Like the Big Bang. Only smaller."

"Er... I think I'll pass, thank you."

The six Dezmundos looked angry about this. "What?"

She was about to try to talk her way out of this, when she suddenly changed her mind and simply ran off as fast as she could.

The blood-thirsty artists ran after her, yelling, "Please do not run away from us! We just want to blow up your body!"

Fenchurch ran past the apartment blocks, past the un-used modern schools, and smack into a law enforcement officer. "Help! You've got to help me!" she cried, trying to duck down behind him... which was difficult since her body was several times the size of his.

The artists came running up a moment later.

"What seems to be the trouble here?" the constable asked.

"They want to blow me up," Fenchurch said. "Like with explosives!"

"Is this true?"

"Yes," the lead artist said. "It is for an art project we're doing," he explained simply.

The law enforcement officers on Gimpel were a combination of patrol cop, law-maker, judge, and executioner all in one. And like most Dezmundos recently, this particular constable had been struggling with some new thoughts about what was right and what was wrong. He had been thinking that violence committed for the sake of passion was probably perfectly acceptable. Killing when angered was okay. Especially if someone were to hurt you or someone you love. Violence in those cases was going with your true nature, the officer had thought to himself. And it is simply in a person's nature to behave violently when enraged.

"So why is that a problem?" he finally asked.

"I said _they want to blow me up!_"

"For art," he finished. He turned to the artists, "I assume you're going to video it or something?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Sounds cool. I'd like to see it when it's finished."

"But you can't be serious!" Fenchurch shouted.

"Why not?"

"Because killing is wrong!"

"Well, I'm not too sure about that. Tell me why you think it's wrong."

"Well..." Fenchurch wished briefly that she were in charge of some galactic council which handed out awards for the stupidest questions ever asked. This constable would win first prize. "What about the idea that all life is sacred? What about doing unto others as you would have them do unto you!"

The constable nodded in serious thought. "Very spiritual," he had to admit. "But we are not in the spiritual realm now. We are in the physical world. And while in the physical world, we should follow the demands of the physical body. Fornication, alcohol and music!" He patted Fenchurch sympathetically, "When we're dead, we'll have time for matters of the spirit."

Fenchurch felt fury building up in her head, which then came bursting out through her fist. She socked the Dezmundo constable right in the eye.

#

The next day an eight foot long machine walked into the jail house where Fenchurch was locked up. It stopped in front of her cell. The machine was four feet high, but was moving along on four legs. It was white and metallic, with flashing lights and dials and buttons all over its surface. Then a dolphin popped his head up through an opening in the top of the machine. The machine was filled with water, and was a portable tank/environment suit for the aquatic mammal to get around in while on land.

"Hello, there," it said to Fenchurch through the bars of her cell.

Was this a real dolphin! Or was it like the "humans" she used to see all over the galaxy, before she realised that there was such a thing as parallel evolution. "Er, hello," she said slightly nervously. She wasn't sure why she should be so nervous about a talking dolphin. She had seen plenty of strange things in her galactic travels.

But then maybe it seemed so strange precisely because this was a dolphin. She was already familiar with dolphins. She knew what they did and did not do. And one thing they did not do was get around in walking tanks. And another thing they did not do was speak. (She had of course long forgotten that Wonko the Sane had told her back on Earth that not only could dolphins speak, but that they were quite capable of speaking English if they chose to.)

"Are you all right?" the dolphin asked.

She sighed. "Well, not really, no."

"I had a word with the authorities," the dolphin began. "If you are amenable, they have agreed to release you into my custody."

"Oh?" That sounded promising. But then so had the idea of working for a group of artists. "And just what would that mean?"

"I would arrange to transport you back to my planet. You are a human being, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"I thought so. I'm a dolphin. We originally came from the same planet. Earth," he added helpfully.

"That's right," she brightened up. "Yes. I came from Earth. So you're a real dolphin?"

"Oh, yes."

"But if you come from Earth... um... You can't really take me back there. I guess you don't know what happened to it."

"I did not mean I would take you to Earth. We have since colonized a new planet. I would take you there. It is very nice. Plenty of oceans. No sharks."

"Well, that sounds just lovely... for you. But I'm a sort of land dwelling kind of girl."

"You are funny," the dolphin said delightedly. "There are plenty of islands on our new world. And there are no predators on the land either. You will like it. You will see."

Fenchurch sighed again. "Well, it's not like I'm in a better situation here. Lay on, Macduff."


	14. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Fenchurch stretched and yawned. She reached over and picked up a nearby kawlbah fruit. She took a couple of bites, tossed it away and rolled over onto her back. She turned to look over at Sparky sitting in the sand beside her. She frowned as she worried over a thought that had been nagging at her. She opened her mouth to speak, spent another few seconds frowning at this worrying thought again. Then she finally said, "You know something, Sparky... I keep thinking it's Tuesday."

"It's whatever day you say it is, Boss."

She nodded at this new way of looking at things, rolled back over onto her stomach, rested her cheek on her arm, and went back to sleep for another couple of hours.

All in all it was a typical day. She had been doing a lot of dozing in the warm sand on the beach in the past month. Of course she wasn't sure exactly how long it had been. She'd been sleeping away so much of her time.

She was all on her own, aside from Sparky, on a tiny tropical island on the dolphin planet Screeeee. And it was a beautiful little island. Absolutely idyllic, with lagoons and plenty of shady kawlbah trees. It was a very hot planet, but where Fenchurch's island was situated in the very northern hemisphere, it was not only tolerable, but was in fact ideal. For at this latitude, and because Screeeee didn't tilt very much on its axis, the sun was almost continuously just sitting on the horizon, making for an almost perpetual sunset, giving her some spectacularly beautiful skies. She found that the sun went down very rarely from her latitude; only for three or four hours a day. And she very quickly became lazy while on this planet... the sort of lazy one gets when they're on holiday, and all they want to do is sleep, nap, eat a bit, nap, eat a bit more, and then go to bed for the night. Sometimes she would even sleep for an entire day... but she wasn't sure, since the length of days was so difficult to judge at this latitude.

Occasionally when Fenchurch went paddling out some way, she would socialize with the nearby dolphins. And as they were all from Earth, it was almost like catching up with old friends. She got to know and love some of them as well. Most of them were sweet, playful, and fun. She told the dolphins that she had always felt a special bond between their two species. She mentioned stories she had heard about dolphins rescuing people who had drifted too far off the coast.

"Yes, that was part of our special coast guard volunteer organization," the dolphins explained to her. "We used to patrol the waters off the coast because we knew that you humans could get into trouble so easily."

Apparently the dolphin in charge of the island was called Mr Schwoom. Fenchurch could only think of him as a kind of landlord. But why he was letting her stay here rent free, she couldn't work out. She had only ever met him once. It was explained to her that he was a very busy dolphin with lots of responsibilities. However, Mr Schwoom's assistant, Blodgey was far more accessible. And it was Blodgey who was responsible for Fenchurch's day-to-day needs. He also kept the island tidy. And whenever Fenchurch needed to get a message to Mr Schwoom, Blodgey would deliver the messages. And he would always show up if she really wanted to talk to him personally. But she got the definite impression that she was one of his smaller responsibilities.

Blodgey, it turned out, could get her almost any kind of food she asked for, just by ordering it from a nearby planet that delivered. One day a thought struck her, and she asked the helpful dolphin, "Can you get me an Algolian Zylbatburger?"

Blodgey explained sadly, "No, I'm afraid not. We wouldn't be able to get you anything so gastronomically metaphysical."

"Oh," she said, disappointed. "It's just that I've heard they're quite good."

"Oh, good is not the word."

"So let me ask you something, Blodgey," she said. "I hope I'm not looking a gift dolphin in the mouth, but I'm curious about what you and Mr Schwoom get out of our arrangement."

"Mr Schwoom is in charge of this branch of the Campaign to Save the Humans. And I am his assistant. It is volunteer work."

And then it started to come back to her. She had heard those words before. Back on Earth when she had tapped her mysterious goldfish bowl and then listened to the sustained chime it made. Both Arthur and Wonko had one like it as well. This was the group responsible for bringing back the Earth after the Vogons had demolished it. And now here they were... taking care of her. "So I'm just a sort of endangered species?"

"Very endangered. Virtually extinct. But there are worse cases."

"Worse?"

"Back at the head office, we have a mucus membrane from a duck-billed platypus. That is all that remains of that species. Most of the species from Earth are just gone."

Things started to come together in her mind. "So this island is just a sort of nature reserve?"

"Yeah. It used up about all the remaining funds of the Campaign to Save the Humans."

"But you guys brought back the entire planet Earth at one point."

"Yes, we did. And that ate up nearly all the money we had. But those Vogons keep destroying it.

"We can't keep bringing it back. It isn't worth it anymore. Planets cost an awful lot to make. And then there's the whole business of re-populating it with exact duplicates of all the animal and plant life."

"And the people," Fenchurch reminded them.

"People _are_ animals," Blodgey pointed out politely.

Then he went on to explain, "What small funds we had left were used up in renovating this island for you. In fact we recently held a fund raising dinner, but not enough people showed up, so they just barely made enough to pay for the dinner itself.

"However, there was a little something left over," Blodgey said. "Just enough to get you a gift."

She smiled softly, "A gift?"

"Yes. That towel we gave you when you first arrived."

Her smile faded, "Oh, that thing."

#

Several weeks crawled by with Fenchurch relaxing, eating, sleeping... relaxing some more. And then one day while she was busy swimming lazily through the calm, clear, shallow waters just offshore, a space ship came down out of the sky. And then she noticed that it wasn't just any space ship. It was Slartibartfast's ship the _Time Flies_. The five story tall spacetime craft touched down gently on the beach. The ramp descended, and Slartibartfast himself walked slowly down the ramp. He stepped down onto the beach and looked about.

Fenchurch was about to come running out of the water to greet him when she suddenly realized that she wasn't in fact wearing anything. It was mildly surprising to her how quickly she had gotten used to wearing nothing at all. None of the dolphins ever did, so she saw no reason why she should either.

She stuck her head up above the water and waved. The old man waved back. "Turn round," she called over to him. He did. He didn't see anything interesting there and wondered why she had asked him to face this direction. So he turned back to ask her... just in time to see her ducking back under the water again. With her head protruding above the water, she hollered, "Do you mind?"

Finally he understood, and turned around again. Facing the trees, he said over his shoulder, "I do apologise, Earth woman. It's just that I haven't seen a female body in so long that I had forgotten they were meant to be covered up." He added quietly, "I knew there was something wrong somewhere. But then I get that feeling a lot, you know. Usually it means nothing, so I've gotten used to ignoring it."

By that point she had waded ashore, picked up her nearby towel which the dolphins had given her, and wrapped it round herself, tucking it in just underneath her armpits. She marched up to Slartibartfast and poked him in the chest with an angry finger, "Listen, you. I was left with that crazy little bird-man Rollo Acrock. And I can't say I'm too happy about it."

"Who?"

"Rollo Acrock. The leader of the Pahkapoh people on Golgafrincham. You know... after you left," she finished lamely. It was only then she realised she was venting at the wrong person. Whatever else Slartibartfast was, he obviously wasn't cruel or unsympathetic.

"Never mind," she finally said. "Would you like something to eat? I can order almost anything. The dolphins bring it to me."

"No, thank you," Slartibartfast said. "I'm afraid I'm not here for a social visit."

"Then what can I do for you?"

"You must come with me. Great things are afoot. I'm afraid that we're both involved in a pre-destination temporal paradox."

"A what?"

He sighed. He hated pre-destination temporal paradoxes. He even hated using the words pre-destination temporal paradox. "It just means that we've already done something at another point in time even though there clearly isn't any motivation for us to actually go and do the thing in question. So we just have to sort of get up, brush ourselves off, and go and get on with it." And he thrust his fist into the air in order to appear enthusiastic about doing whatever it was.

"It may just be me because I'm not used to traveling through time," Fenchurch said. "But that sounds like the stupidest reason for doing anything I've ever heard."

Slartibartfast sighed and sagged his shoulder. "I know. I don't care for pre-destination temporal paradoxes very much either. It smacks too much of the universe not being creative enough. But then I think of the number forty-two, and I feel all right again."

"Do you?" Fenchurch asked skeptically. Aside from hearing Zarniwoop and Zaphod talk about it recently, she had also heard Arthur go on about the ultimate answer to life, the universe and everything. But how it could actually bring comfort to anyone, was beyond her.

Slartibartfast explained, "You see, this universe doesn't really make any sense. There's no actual purpose to it. Not that life is pointless. I don't mean that. But rather it's more sort of musical. Music doesn't actually mean anything. It just _is. _It's to be enjoyed for what it is, not for what it means. And since the ultimate answer to this universe also makes no sense... makes perfect sense... if you see what I mean?"

"Sort of," Fenchurch said. Thinking that for a brief instant, she almost understood something profound. But then it slipped away like something dropped into a deep ocean. And anyway, there was just something so sweet about Slartibartfast that she didn't want to ruin the one small thing that gave him comfort in this universe.

A couple of dolphins poked their heads up over the surface of the water at that point and saw what was happening. They came swimming up very quickly and squealed angrily. Slartibartfast took out his remote control, pointed it at the dolphins, and pushed pause. The dolphins froze in place and just bobbed there in the surf. Then he turned back towards his ship. "Come along."

Fenchurch just stood there, "But you can't just leave them like that."

"Oh, they'll come un-paused after five minutes. They're perfectly safe."

They boarded the ship, and once again, Fenchurch found herself in the cramped cabin of the time vessel. As Slartibartfast started the engine to the _Time Flies_, he turned around to talk to Fenchurch squatting on the floor behind him in the tiny control cabin. "I wonder if you understand exactly what sort of temporal paradox it is we're dealing with here. You see, I haven't actually met you until just now. The first time you met me hasn't actually happened yet... at least for me. That lies at some point in my own personal future. And, um..." he tried to think of an analogy that would help the primitive Earth woman understand it better. Perhaps he could explain it by talking about eating food. Then he quickly realised that this would involve describing the food going out where it usually went in, and going in where it usually came out, and that this was no sort of conversation for a gentleman to have with a lady.

Fortunately Fenchurch leapt to his rescue by quoting Slartibartfast's future self, "Obviously we haven't met yet... for you. But for me, we have."

"Yes," said the old man. "That's it exactly. My, you are remarkably clear-sighted for someone from the planet Earth."

"Thank you. But couldn't we have a quick bite to eat first? I'm actually quite hungry."

"No. I'm afraid not. There's no time."

"But we're onboard a time machine."

"Yes." He hesitated. "I'm afraid the dolphins will be upset with me for taking you away from here. So I'd just like to avoid them if I can."

"Why would they be angry with you? I am free, aren't I? I mean I'm hardly a prisoner down there."

"Mm?" He tried to look busy at the controls as he took off.

#

Sparky the clam sat in the sand and watched the spacetime ship take off. He had figured that this would probably happen. And he was pretty sure about what would come next.

Several hours later the waves washed him out to sea. He quickly found himself on the sea floor. And he spent the rest of his life underwater, thinking quietly to himself... which was what clams did best anyway.


	15. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

The _Time Flies_ moved backwards through time, like a great cosmic salmon swimming against the current. The trip took about two hours from the point of view of Slartibartfast and Fenchurch. After the initial return to normal bodily sensations, Fenchurch was reminded of just how hungry she was. "Will we have time to get some food, wherever it is we're going?"

"Oh, I should think so."

They walked down the ship's ramp and Fenchurch found herself in a very familiar spaceship carpark. "Just a moment. We're back at the Big Bang Burger Bar."

Slartibartfast said casually, "Oh, didn't I tell you that's where we were headed?"

"No," she said simply.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

They moved along the walkway and into the restaurant itself. They walked casually past the reception desk where Slartibartfast uttered a quick, "We're here to meet friends, thank you," before the receptionist could protest.

They moved through the familiar restaurant, passing all sorts of aliens eating all sorts of food that only served to make Fenchurch's stomach growl even more.

As she followed in the wake of the old man, she thought about what he had said: that he hadn't actually met her yet. Well, that made a sort of sense. When she had first met him, he already knew who she was.

What a very confusing way to live, that must be. She thought about all the time traveling he must have done over the years. She wondered if it was much more confusing than all the space travel she had done. "Can I ask you," she said. "What is it that inspired you to want to be in this Campaign for Real Time organization thing?"

"Oh, dear. That's a very complex answer, I'm afraid..."

But before he could get any further, they found their earlier selves seated at the table where they had earlier encountered their later selves... so to speak.

The Slartibartfast sitting at the table looked up quite casually and said, "Can I help you?"

The Slartibartfast who had just arrived, the one who was encountering this situation for the first time, knew that the best way to avoid the second-guessing that goes on with temporal paradoxes was simply to state exactly what was on his mind, not try to figure out what he ought to say or what his other self might say or be thinking. "I'm afraid we've got to swap Fenchurches. I've only just met this one," he said, pointing to the Fenchurch he had brought with him from the dolphin planet. "And since you're my future self, you are clearly already acquainted with the young lady."

He turned to the Fenchurch seated at the table, "And you, I take it, have only just met the other me?"

"Well... yes."

"Splendid. So you can come with me, and your other self here can stay here with the _other _me."

The seated and clothed Fenchurch looked to the standing and towel-clad Fenchurch, "You're from my future?"

"Yes."

"Will it be all right?"

"Yes, of course." Her stomach growled quietly at that point. She was quickly reminded of that fantastic meal she had ordered for herself and had never gotten a chance to eat. She then added to her other self, "In fact it's urgent that you go right now."

"Well, it's not really urgent," the standing Slartibartfast said.

"Yes, it is," said the towel-clad Fenchurch. She then turned to her seated other self, "Trust me. Off you go."

The seated Fenchurch held up her hands and let them slap down onto her thighs in resignation, "All right." She got up, and watched her other self sit down in the chair she had just vacated.

"Come on, then," the standing Slartibartfast said. And the earlier Fenchurch followed him off through the restaurant.

The Slartibartfast still seated at the table, the one Fenchurch had met back on the _GSS Suicidal Insanity_, asked her casually, "I'm not sure I understand. Just why was it so urgent that you swap places with your earlier self?"

The waitress arrived at that point and set their dinners down in front of them. "Because I am starving! And I want to eat this Algolian Zylbatburger," Fenchurch said in answer to his question. And she began eating. It was fantastic. It was the best meal she had ever had. She felt a mini big bang in her mouth. A whole new universe opened up in her head. She could almost even taste the red shift as it expanded through and beyond her taste buds. In fact she almost passed out.

When she recovered from the first bite a few moments later, she looked over at Slartibartfast who was quietly enjoying his shrimp cocktail and chocolate malt. "You have got to try this!"

"Oh, I'm not young enough, I'm afraid. But I'm quite happy with this, thank you."

#

And then the universe began. The filters on the dome over their heads prevented everyone from going blind from the tremendous flash of light, but it still allowed in enough raw energy for them to feel the effects of the Big Bang in their bodies. It was a crash of light. But it moved through the bodies of everyone at the restaurant like a giant cosmic orgasm. It was an explosion to be seen, heard, felt, and known. It was a knowing on a psychic level that Fenchurch previously didn't even know she was capable of feeling. A new understanding rippled through her in a wave that almost overpowered her. She had to struggle for several seconds just to remain conscious. Fenchurch had never given birth before. But now she thought she had a pretty good idea of what it felt like... only a thousand times more. She was exhausted. She was elated. And she was also very thirsty.

She quickly downed a glass of water.

She turned to Slartibartfast, who was also looking like he'd just had the ride of his life. She said the only thing she could at that point, "Wow."

Slartibartfast was only slightly more articulate, "Well... good heavens."

Very slowly the rest of the restaurant's patrons recovered. They had all just had the ultimate shared the experience. They looked around to make sure that everyone had experienced the same thing. Some of them felt elated. Some of them felt slightly embarrassed. There was also a great deal of shame, gratification, bliss... and in once case there was guilt.

#

The excitement of the evening gradually died down. Even the creation of the universe itself could only hold people's attention for so long. Eventually people had to excuse themselves to go use the restroom, or simply go home and sleep.

But Slartibartfast stayed late, keeping an eye on a particular group of patrons several tables away. The people in the group he was watching had golden beards and green wings, and they all wore robes and sandals. And in the time that he watched them, they went through five large bowls of nachos.

Earlier in the evening they had been giggling like naughty children as they watched the empty sky overhead. They virtually bounced with elation when the Big Bang banged. But after a while they began to look uncomfortable. Then one by one they got up to leave.

Suddenly Slartibartfast got to his feet, "Come on. We must speak to those people."

Fenchurch tagged along.

They left the restaurant and went out to the walkway along the side of the spaceship carpark. They looked about for several minutes, but were unable to find any of the guys with green wings. "Let's head back to the restaurant," Slartibartfast finally suggested.

They opened the main doors and came face to face with one of the green-winged people they were following. Slartibartfast moved to block the man, "Might I have a word with you?"

The man with the long golden beard and green wings looked about nervously. "Oh, uh, yes, all right."

"It's just that I have reason to believe that you have some measure or responsibility for the main event that took place evening."

"Um..."

"And that you might therefore know something about the origin of this restaurant."

The man looked up at the nearby wall of the restaurant. He nodded slowly, "Well..."

"You see, there's been much debate about where this restaurant came from."

"Uh, huh."

"Can you shed any light on it... so to speak."

The winged man drooped his head. "I guess."

"Excellent." And then after a pause, Slartibartfast said, "We are listening."

"Well," the man began, "the thing is... my friends and I come here all the time. Great restaurant. We love the food. Eating is such a novelty for us. You see, the restaurant was designed for beings like myself who existed in a non-physical state. And we created physicality... as a sort of sport. And then we created time so that we could play the sport of physicality on the weekends. Then we created senses, sight and sound. And then we got bored with that, and someone finally came up with taste. So we put on our physical bodies and experimented with eating. And then we created this restaurant. Only when we first created it, we simply called it 'that place where we eat stuff.' And since the cooks and waiters were always notoriously slow here... well... we felt we had to create something to watch in order to pass the time. You know an explosion. Explosions are cool. But this one was a bit big. As you saw, it just went on and on. We had no idea where it would go and what would happen. So we figured we'd better get the heck out of here before we got into trouble."

"I'm sorry," Fenchurch said, shaking her head to try to let these new ideas in. "What are you saying?"

He shrugged guiltily, "I'm sorry. We just figured it would sort itself out eventually."

"Well, it never does," Slartibartfast said. "Where do you think all the rest of these patrons came from?"

"Yes. We did begin to wonder."

Fenchurch just wanted to make sure she understood what this guy had said, "Are you telling us that the restaurant is not here in order to observe the Big Bang? But rather that the Big Bang is here _just to give you something to look at while you eat!_"

"Um... yeah. Sorry for any inconvenience. I have to go. Excuse me," and he edged past them and out the door.

Fenchurch held the door open and watched him approach the walkway. And there she saw a familiar face. It was the Pahkapoh lawyer, His Grace Harl van Garl claiming to represent God. He approached the guy she and Slartibartfast had just spoken to, and the two of them talked for a few moments. And then the lawyer gave the guy his business card, and they parted.

She turned back to Slartibartfast. He hadn't been watching. He had gone over to the front desk for a mint. He popped it into his mouth and noticed her looking at him.

Neither of them knew what to do at that point. He shrugged, shook his head, and just flopped his arms uselessly to his sides.

Fenchurch could see that Slartibartfast was completely puzzled. Was it possible he didn't know? It wasn't very often that she knew something about the universe that other people didn't. "Tell me something," she said, trying very hard not to sound smug. "Have you ever been to the planet Preliumtarn, third out from the sun Zarss in the Galactic Sector QQ7 ActiveJ Gamma?"


	16. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Slartibartfast sat in the tiny control cabin of the _Time Flies_. With the Earth woman now gone, there was more room for him to stretch his legs. He had just returned Fenchurch to the planet Screeeee with all those dolphins. And now he was on his way back to Camtim headquarters.

At first she hadn't been sure where she wanted to go. As they were discussing it however, she said, "So obviously I'm just like an animal in a zoo back there on the dolphin planet. But, you know what? In all honesty it was the nicest planet that I've been to. The dolphins were quite nice to me. And at least I was safe there. Part of me thinks I ought to fight being in a gilded cage. It's the sort of thing that if I were back home, safe in my own house, I would have said that I would never put up with, no matter how nice the prison is. But now in the reality of this big, wide, lonely galaxy... it seems like quite a good bargain. And you know, I'm actually grateful that somebody genuinely wants to take care of me."

And so had he dropped her off back on her island.

But now there was something nagging at him. Some empty little hole inside him that needed to be filled... with what though? Well... not with Camtim! All he could expect from them was a regular pay cheque and the monthly company foot massage. There was of course the satisfaction of setting the timelines right. But that didn't really do it for him any more. Not like it had when he had first joined. And was he really making a difference? The universe just seemed to muddle through somehow, now matter what temporal anomalies cropped up.

He had been the same way when he was designing coastlines. At first it had been immensely satisfying. When he had assisted on his first artificially constructed planet, Farssafarss, they had given him a cluster of islands in the southern hemisphere to design. Nobody ever paid attention to the southern hemispheres. That's why it was given to the "new boy." But that didn't deter him. He still gave it his best shot. And he could still remember shortly after it had been completed and set gently into orbit round a white dwarf star. He and the other designers took a space ship and hovered in low orbit over the planet to look down at the sights they had created. It took his breath away. It was magnificent. And he was fulfilled.

And of course these days there were some people who go around blowing up planets. Some days it just wasn't worth getting out of bed.

So, one small detour, he told himself. Nobody would notice. He sat up straight and set the coordinates for the planet Preliumtarn, third out from the sun Zarss in the Galactic Sector QQ7 ActiveJ Gamma.

When he arrived, he set the _Time Flies_ down in the clearly labeled parking facility in the land of Sevorbeupstry. He followed the signs which led him to the Great Red Plains of Rars. On the South side were the Quentulus Quazgar Mountains. Once there he met the Lajestic Vantrashell of Lob who sold him his ticket.

He walked for miles along the well-worn path, past all the souvenir booths. And then, finally he arrived. Standing before him in thirty foot high letters of fire was the Message.

And now it all made sense.

He laughed lightly. And he stayed there all afternoon in sheer wonder and contentment.

Finally, when he felt he could tear himself away some time later, he felt that he owed the Earth woman something. He owed her a great deal in fact.


	17. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Slartibartfast stepped out of his ship into the cold night air. He pulled his robes around him tightly against the chill. He surveyed the landscape around him. Right on target. It was a planet he had only been to once before. A planet he had even helped to design, long, long ago. Ten million years ago in fact. But then this wasn't actually the exact same one on which he had worked. This was a parallel version of that planet. So did that mean that it really wasn't his? Did he not deserve credit for the lovely fjords? Or was there some parallel version of Slartibartfast who had made this Norway?

It didn't really matter. He was just here for a quick errand. He had come back in time a couple of years, to a time shortly before this version of the Earth was to be destroyed by the Grebulons. Everyone on it would be dead in the next day or so.

Or... _almost_ everyone.

He walked down the quiet roadside of Cottington and up to a house at the end of the lane. He cleared his throat and knocked on the door. There was a pause. A few moments later the porch light clicked on, and the front door opened. He looked into a pair of familiar eyes. The familiar eyes looked back at him without returning the familiarity. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, Earth man."


	18. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Fenchurch woke up. She was back on her beach on the planet Screeeee. It was about sunset... at least at this latitude. The kawlbah trees swayed slightly in the gentle breeze. She relaxed today. But over the last few days she had been busy looking for her clam. Of course she also took plenty of naps, ate a food which was very much like pizza that Blodgey had delivered for her, and she took more naps. As she wandered up and down the beaches, she came across many clams in the sand or in tide pools. But none of them were Sparky. At least none of them claimed to be Sparky. At first she felt a bit silly insisting that the clams talk to her. Sometimes the dolphins even looked at her oddly as they poked their heads above the water just off the coast. But she didn't mind if dolphins thought she was behaving oddly. There were more important things to worry about.

Eventually she did find a clam that she enjoyed talking to. It had no wisdom to offer her. No words of advise. But for some reason, she just liked talking to the thing. And soon she realized that she actually enjoyed talking to this clam more than she had to old Sparky... because it didn't talk back, and it didn't offer opinions. It just sat there in her hand as it seemed to listen to everything she said with a sort of calm acceptance. It reminded her of a dog she had had when she was a little girl. The dog was named Polly, and Polly was a very lazy old dog. Even when she was a puppy, she was lazy and seemed to be old. She never barked. Didn't like to chase balls. She just loved to sleep or to follow Fenchurch around loyally wherever she went. And she always waited patiently by the door whenever Fenchurch had to go out. This clam, like Polly the dog, just loved her for who she was.

One day while sitting on the beach, Fenchurch felt slightly worried about something. It clearly wasn't anything important. But it was just a nagging little worry on the periphery of her mind. And she eventually realised that she was worrying that she ought to worry about being some sort of zoo animal.

She remembered something she had thought when visiting London Zoo many years ago. All the animals in the zoo's enclosures looked bored, and some of them even looked as though they might be ill, just sitting there day after day waiting to be fed. So she determined that that wouldn't be her. She would keep her body and her mind stimulated. So she began swimming every day. Sometimes several times a day. And to stimulate her mind, she decided to make a cello. She asked Blodgey for some tools and a small amount of building materials. And over the next month, she made for herself a sort of a cello. Then she set about trying to write from memory the Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello by Bach. And she would then play them there on the beach. The dolphins seemed to quite like it. They would stick their heads out of the water whenever she would play, and they would listen attentively. And they squealed with delight when she finished.

And overall her life became very tolerable. Almost idyllic. The only really annoying part was when one day a documentary crew landed nearby and then followed her around with their cameras. Apparently they were doing a documentary on endangered species. The worst part of the experience was their insistence on being able to catch her defecating on camera. Fenchurch toyed with the idea of defecating _onto_ their camera. But instead she ended up sneaking off into the ocean to do it secretly in the water.

#

And then one afternoon a space craft landed near the lagoon where she was soaking her feet at the water's edge, her towel wrapped about her. It was a familiar space craft. It was about five stories tall. It was that old man from the Campaign for Real Time. And he was probably about to give her some load of nonsense about another predestination paradox thing! Well, she had had just about enough of that. Even if he was a sweet old man. He had interfered with her life once too often!

She marched up to the enormous space ship just as the hatch slid open and the ramp extended down to the sand. But instead of Slartibartfast, Fenchurch was greeted with by a sight she had almost resigned herself to never seeing again.

"Arthur!" she gaped. "Is it you!"

Arthur blinked in confusion as he walked nervously down the ramp. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

"Of course you know me, you complete nitwit!" She grinned from ear to ear. She ran up to him and hugged him so hard that Arthur began to worry that he might lose circulation in his arms.

"I really am terribly sorry," Arthur went on, returning the hug only half-heartedly. "But I really should tell you that I honestly can't remember you. I wish I could, actually. You're certainly very, er, affectionate and all that. But could you remind me who you are and, er, where we are exactly?"

Fenchurch finally let him go. She stepped back. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I'm sorry. I'm not even sure what I'm doing here. That old man in the sort of spaceship thing back there said something about saving my life and returning a favour to a young lady, presumably you, at the same time. Didn't understand much of it to be honest."

She looked around for Slartibartfast at that point, only to find that his ship had already slid silently back up into the sky, and was now only a disappearing light in the vast orange sunset sky.

She looked back at Arthur. "Okay, just supposing that there was some extraordinary way in which you were very important to me, and that, though you didn't know it, I was very important to you?"

"Well... if you say so."

"But it will take a while to explain."

She took him gently by the arm and together they walked down the beach.


End file.
